FROM   THE   LIBRARY   OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY   OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


JMviflioti 

Section        -^  <Z& 


MEMOIR 


LIFE   OF  HENRY  WARE,  Jr. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/lifeofheOOware 


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OCT  15  1931 


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MEMOIR     X^/cn  sfi« 


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LIFE  OF  HENRY  WARE,  Jr. 


BY    HIS    BROTHER, 


JOHN   WARE,   M.  D 


IN     TWO     VOLUMES. 
VOL,.    I. 


NEW    EDITION. 


BOSTON: 

JAMES    MUNROE    AND    COMPANY. 

LONDON: 

CHAPMAN,    BROTHERS. 

1846. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  Year  1846,  by  Mary  L. 
Ware,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massa- 
chusetts. 


Stereotyped    by 

CROllGR    A  .    CURTIS; 

NEW  ENGLAND  TYPE  AND  STEREOTYPE  FOUNDERY. 


TO    THE    MEMORY 


OF    THE    FATHER, 


WHOSE    EXAMPLE    AND    INSTRUCTIONS    GUIDED    THE    LIFE    AND    FORMED 
THE     CHARACTER 


OF    THE    SON, 


THIS    BOOK 


IS     REVERENTLY      INSCRIBED. 


PREFACE 


This  work  was  undertaken  at  the  suggestion  of 
some  of  the  friends  of  my  late  brother,  who  were  of 
opinion  that  it  would  be  acceptable  to  the  public  and 
useful.  They  thought,  also,  that  I  was  a  suitable  per- 
son to  prepare  it.  In  some  respects,  so  far.  especially, 
as  a  knowledge  of,  and  ready  access  to,  the  requisite 
materials,  and  an  intimate  personal  knowledge,  are  con- 
cerned, I  perceived  that  this  was  so.  As  I  proceeded, 
however,  I  was  sensible,  on  the  other  hand,  of  some 
disadvantages  arising  from  the  same  circumstances. 
Moreover  I  have  found,  that  the  exclusive  character  of 
my  own  occupations,  for  many  years,  has  kept  me 
from  possessing  that  familiar  knowledge  of  his  exter- 
nal, which  I  have  had  of  his  personal  history.  On 
some  subjects,  therefore,  there  is  reason  to  fear,  that  the 
book  will  be  found  often  deficient  and  sometimes 
inaccurate.  For  such  faults,  I  have  only  to  plead  in 
palliation  the  constant  pressure  of  other  duties,  which 


viii  PREFACE. 

has  made  it  impossible  to  command  the  leisure  for  so 
deliberate  an  inquiry  into  these  subjects  as  such  a  work 
demands. 

The  purpose  had  in  view,  and  the  plan  followed,  in 
this  Memoir,  will  be  obvious  on  its  perusal;  but  the 
reader  will  enter  upon  it  to  greater  advantage,  if  they 
are  suggested  to  him  in  advance.  The  purpose  has 
been  to  exhibit  its  subject,  at  all  times  of  his  life,  in  all 
the  varieties  of  his  character ; — not  merely  as  a  minister, 
a  professor,  a  man  of  the  public ;  but  also  as  a  son,  a 
brother,  a  husband,  a  father,  and  a  friend;— not  merely 
as  a  man  of  serious  thoughts,  of  solemn  occupations,  of 
weighty  purposes ;  but  in  all  his  other  moods,  cheerful, 
lively,  gay,  jocose,  and,  if  it  so  seem  to  any,  even 
trivial.  The  plan  has  been  to  tell  the  story  of  his  life, 
and  illustrate  the  formation  and  developement  of  his 
character,  by  the  introduction  of  materials  which  will 
do  it  indirectly.  I  have  endeavored  to  say  nothing  in 
my  own  words,  which  could  be  said  in  those  of  another, 
or  which  could  be  inferred  from  any  thing  said  by  him- 
self. A  very  free  use  has  therefore  been  made  of  the 
letters  and  papers  of  himself  and  others,  though  the 
amount  selected  bears  but  a  small  proportion  to  the 
whole  mass  from  which  the  selection  has  been  made. 

I  am  aware,  that  there  have  been,  of  late,  several 


PREFACE.  IX 

strong  expressions  of  opinion,  from  sources  entitled  to 
consideration,  against  such  a  use  of  materials  of  this 
description.  The  feeling,  which  dictated  these  expres- 
sions, does  not  seem  to  be  founded  in  justice.  As  the 
lives  and  characters  of  the  dead  furnish  us  some  of  the 
most  efficient  means  for  the  instruction  of  the  living, 
mankind  have  a  sort  of  right  to  the  use  of  whatever 
will  contribute  to  so  important  an  end, — so  far,  at  least, 
as  it  can  be  without  violating  the  feelings  or  rights  of 
the  living.  A  due  regard  for  this  consideration  has,  it 
is  hoped,  been  had  in  the  preparation  of  the  present 

work. 

J.  W. 

Boston,  December  14th,  1845. 


The  first  edition  of  this  work  seemed  to  many  per- 
sons to  be  printed  on  too  small  a  type  for  comfortable 
reading.  .  In  the  present,  a  larger  type  has,  for  this  rea- 
son, been  adopted.  There  is  no  other  change  except 
the  correction  of  a  few  verbal  inaccuracies,  and  the 
addition  of  two  or  three  letters  or  other  papers. 

March,  1846 


CONTENTS 

OF    THE    FIRST    VOLUME. 


CHAPTER   I. 
His  descent  —  Birth — Early  Religious  Impressions,  and  Predilec- 
tion for  his  Profession  —  Early  Habit  of  Composition — Anecdote 

—  Removal  of  the  Family  to  Cambridge  —  Death  of  his  Mother 

—  Her  Character 1 

CHAPTER    II. 
His  Early  Education,  at   Duxbury,  Cambridge,   and  Andover — 
Entrance  into  College  and  College  Life — Winter  at  Beverly  in 
Keeping  School 26 

CHAPTER   III. 
Becomes  Assistant  in  the  Academy  at  Exeter,  N.  H. — His  Choice 
of  a  Profession — Correspondence  with  his  Father — Journal.        .     39 

CHAPTER   IV. 
Second  Year  at  Exeter — Continuation  of  Correspondence  with  his 
Father — Proposes  to  relinquish  his  Office — First  Appearance  in 
the  Pulpit 60 

CHAPTER   V. 
Studies  Divinity  at  Cambridge  —  State  of  Education  there  —  He  is 
Approbated — Results  of  Self-Examination — First  Preaching — 
Ordained  Pastor  over  the  Second  Church  in  Boston.        ...     91 

CHAPTER   VI 
His  Views  of  Pastoral  Duty — Various  Labors — His  Marriage  and 
Place  of  Residence — Death  of  Mr.  Thomas  Prentiss — Sickness 
and  Death  of  Mr.  John  E.  Abbot 109 

CHAPTER   VII. 
State  of  the  Religious  World  at  the  Commencement  of  Mr.  Ware's 
Ministry—  Visit  to  the  South  —  Origin  of  " The  Christian  Disciple" 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

and  "The  Christian  Examiner"  —  He  becomes  its  Editor  —  For- 
mation of  a  Congregational  Church  in  New  York  —  Letter  of  Dr. 
Charming — Letters  to  Dr.  McLeod  —  Failure  of  his  Health  — 
Convention  of  1820  —  His  impressions  of  3Ir.  Webster's  Oratory.   124 

CHATTER   VIII. 
His  Occupations  —  Sickness  in  his  Family  —  Preaches  at  Amherst, 
N.  H.,  and  under  what  Circumstances  —  Formation  of  the  Asi 
ciaiion  for  Mutual  Religious  Improvement  —  Establishment  oi 
Sunday  Evening  Services  for  the  Poor 116 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Religious  Revival  in  Boston  —  Letters — Sickness  and  Death  of  his 
Child  and  Wife  —  Disposal  of  his  Family 156 

CHAPTER   X. 
State  of  his  Church  and  Parish  —  Poem  on  the  Visit  of  Lafayette — 
Extemporaneous  Preaching — Various  Publications  —  Commen- 
tary on  the  Bible  —  American  Unitarian  Association  formed — 
Bunker-Hill  Monument  Celebration 177 

CHAPTER    XI. 
Failure  of  His  Health,  and  a  Journey  for  its  Restoration  — Visits 
the  Interior  of  New  York  —  His   Account  o(  an   Extraordinary 
Religious   Excitement  there  —  Letters  —  Visit  to  Niagara — Re- 
turns with  improved  Health •  193 

CHAPTER   XII. 
Formation  of  a  New  Society  in  New  York  —  Sermon  at  the  Dedi- 
cation of  its  Church  by  Dr.  Channing  —  3Ir.  Ware  invited  to  be- 
come its  Pastor — He  declines — His  Reasons — His  Second  Mar- 
ge—  Plan  for  a  New   Theological  School  —  Its  Failure —  1. 
tares  on  Palestine  —  Their  Object  and  Success 218 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

Severe  Illness  in  the  Village  o{'  Ware — Removal  to  Worcester  and 
LuaJ  Recovery  —  Establishment  of  the  Professorship  of  Pulpit 
Eloquence  at  Cambridge  —  Journey  on  Horseback  through  \ 
montj  Canada,  ami  New  Hampshire 233 


LIFE  OF  HENRY  WARE,  Jr. 


CHAPTER    I. 

HIS  DESCENT— BIRTH  — EARLY  RELIGIOUS  IMPRESSIONS,  AND  PREDI- 
LECTION FOR  HIS  PROFESSION  —  EARLY  HABIT  OF  COMPOSITION- 
ANECDOTE— REMOVAL  OF  THE  FAMILY  TO  CAMBRIDGE— DEATH  OF 
HIS    MOTHER— HER    CHARACTER. 

1794—1805.     iET.  1—11. 

Henry  Ware,  Jr.,  was  born  at  Hingham,  in  Massa- 
chusetts, April  21st,  1794.  He  was  a  descendant,  in  the 
fifth  generation,  of  Robert  Ware,  who  came  over  from 
England  among  the  earlier  settlers  of  the  colony,  and 
fixed  himself  at  Dedham,  about  the  year  1644.  Near 
the  beginning  of  the  next  century,  Joseph  Ware,  a  grand- 
son of  Robert,  removed  to  the  neighboring  town  of  Sher- 
burne, and  there  became  the  father  of  a  large  family, 
many  of  whose  descendants  are  still  among  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  place.  One  of  his  sons,  John  Ware,  mar- 
ried into  a  family  at  Cambridge  of  the  name  of  Prentiss, 
and  Henry,  the  father  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  was 
the  youngest  but  one  of  his  ten  children.  John  Ware 
was  a  plain  country  farmer,  probably  not  of  the  highest 
class,  of  small  means,  whose  elder  sons  were  all  brought 
up  to  his  own  or  some  other  laborious  occupation.  Three 
of  them  served  in  the  Revolutionary  war.  Two  were 
in  the  battle  of  Bunker's  Hill,  one  of  them  a  lad  only 
fourteen  years  of  age.  A  third,  Joseph,  the  oldest  of 
the  number,  lost  an  arm  at  the  battle  of  White  Plains. 
1 


2  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

He  was  father  of  the  Hon.  Ashur  Ware,  District  Judge 
of  the  United  States  for  the  State  of  Maine.  He  lived 
always  on  the  old  family  place  at  Sherburne,  and,  not- 
withstanding his  mutilation,  continued  to  lead  the  active 
life  of  a  farmer.  He  was  highly  respected  in  the  com- 
munity in  which  he  resided,  for  his  strict  integrity, 
strong  good  sense,  and  excellent  judgment. 

Henry  was  born  April  1st,  1764.  It  happened  that 
an  eclipse  of  the  sun  took  place  on  the  day  of  his  birth. 
The  believers  in  signs  among  his  friends  prognosticated, 
from  this  coincidence  and  from  his  being  born  on  All- 
Fools  day,  that  he  would  be  deficient  in  intellect.  Not- 
withstanding this  prophecy,  however,  he  became  fond 
of  books  very  early ;  and,  as  he  was  of  too  slender 
a  constitution  when  young  to  labor  much  on  the  farm 
with  the  other  boys,  this  propensity  was  indulged.  His 
proficiency  was  such  as  to  excite  the  notice  of  the  min- 
ister of  the  town,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Brown,  who  suggested, 
or  at  least  encouraged,  the  idea  of  sending  him  to  col- 
lege. His  father  died  in  middle  life,  leaving  behind  him 
but  slender  means  for  the  education  or  even  mainte- 
nance of  his  family;  but  Henry,  having  a  strong  desire 
to  procure  a  public  education,  persevered  in  his  purpose, 
and  under  the  direction  of  his  pastor  and  friend,  for 
whose  kindness  he  always  felt  the  deepest  gratitude,  he 
prepared  himself  for  college  in  a  very  short  time,  and 
was  entered  at  Cambridge  in  1781,  in  his  eighteenth 
year.  His  elder  brothers,  who  were  settled  in  life,  con- 
tributed something  to  his  support,  and  his  very  narrow 
means  were  eked  out  by  the  emoluments  derived  from 
keeping  school  during  the  winter  months.  He  gradu- 
ated with  the  first  honors  of  his  class  in  17S5.  He  was 
immediately  engaged  in  teaching  the  Public  Grammar 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  6 

School  of  the  town  of  Cambridge,  at  the  same  time 
occupying  himself  in  the  study  of  Divinity :  and  in  Octo- 
ber, 17S7,  he  was  ordained  at  Hingham,  as  successor  to 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Gay,  one  of  the  distinguished  clergymen 
of  his  time. 

He  married,  in  1789,  Mary,  daughter  of  the  Rev. 
Jonas  Clarke,  minister  of  Lexington,  whose  wife  was 
the  granddaughter  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Hancock,  her 
husband's  predecessor  in  the  parish.  Mr.  Hancock 
was  undoubtedly  quite  a  remarkable  man,  and  was  long 
and  extensively  remembered.  He  was  distinguished  for 
shrewdness  and  good  sense :  and,  being  withal  a  person 
of  a  very  imposing  presence,  acquired  great  ascendency, 
and  exercised  much  influence,  over  his  brethren  of  the 
clergy.  He  was  resorted  to,  from  the  confidence  reposed 
in  his  judgment,  for  counsel  on  important  occasions  in 
the  church,  and  his  opinion  always  had  great  weight. 
He  was  commonly  known  by  the  title  of  Bishop  Han- 
cock: and  this  appellation  is,  even  at  the  present  day, 
familiar  to  some  of  the  survivors  of  the  last  generation, 
who  can  recollect  its  use  in  their  early  years  among 
those  who  were  contemporaries  with  the  old  patriarch. 
One  son  of  the  Bishop,  Ebenezer,  a  young  man  of  great 
excellence  and  promise,  was  ordained  as  his  colleague 
in  the  ministry,  but  died  soon  after,  at  the  early  age  of 
twenty-eight,  in  1740;  another,  John,  was  the  minister 
of  Brain  tree,  and  the  father  of  John  Hancock,  President 
of  Congress  during  the  Revolution,  and  Governor  of 
Massachusetts :  a  third,  Thomas,  was  an  eminent  and 
wealthy  Boston  merchant,  and  a  liberal  benefactor  of 
Harvard  College,  who,  dying  a  bachelor,  left  the  bulk 
of  his  great  fortune  to  his  nephew,  John,  whom  he  had 
adopted  during  his  lifetime.     A  daughter,  Lucy,  was 


4  LIFE    OF    HEXRY    WARE.    JR. 

married  to  the  Rev.  Nicholas  Bowes,  of  Bedford ;  and 
her  daughter,  Lucy  Bowes,  became  the  wife  of  Mr. 
Clarke,  her  grandfather's  successor  in  his  parish.  The 
elder  Hancock  died  in  1752,  aged  eighty-two,  after  a 
ministry  of  more  than  fifty  years. 

Mr.  Clarke  was  a  man  of  popular  manners,  of  a  kind 
and  sociable  disposition,  and  much  beloved.  His  house 
was  the  seat  of  a  very  extensive  hospitality,  and  was 
especially  a  place  of  resort  for  young  clergymen.  Four 
of  his  daughters  married  clergymen,  but  none  of  his 
sons  were  educated  at  college,  or  adopted  their  father's 
profession.  Mr.  Clarke  was  an  earnest  Whig,  and  took, 
as  far  as  his  calling  would  permit,  an  active  part  in  the 
politics  of  the  day.  When  the  inhabitants  of  Boston 
were  suffering  so  many  hardships  from  the  operation  of 
the  Boston  Port  Bill,  and  contributions  for  their  relief 
were  sent  in  from  the  neighboring  country,  he  directed 
that  his  annual  allowance  of  twenty  cords  of  Avood 
should  be  sent  as  his  donation.  Gov.  Hancock,  being 
a  cousin  of  his  wife,  w^as  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  par- 
sonage, and  was  on  intimate  terms  with  the  family. 
There  he  spent  the  night  before  the  battle  of  Lexing- 
ton, in  company  with  his  partner  in  proscription,  Sam- 
uel Adams,  the  house  being  guarded  by  a  small  party 
of  militia.  At  three  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  nine- 
teenth of  April,  an  alarm  was  given,  and  information 
received  that  the  British  troops  were  on  their  march 
from  Boston.  Mr.  Clarke  immediately  took  precautions 
for  the  safety  of  his  guests,  and  had  them  conveyed  in 
Mr.  Hancock's  carriage,  under  the  charge  of  his  second 
son,  Jonas,  (afterwards  Judge  Clarke,  of  Kennebunk,) 
to  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones,  the  minister  of  a 
settlement    then    called    Woburn    Precinct,    now    the 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  5 

town  of  Burlington.  They  went  with  great  reluctance. 
"When  the  troops  approached  the  meeting-house,  which 
was  but  a  short  distance  from  Mr.  Clarke's,  he  sent  his 
wife,  and  all  his  children  but  one,  to  a  remote  part  of 
the  town,  where  they  remained  through  the  day.  But 
just  as  they  were  going  from  the  yard,  the  firing  of  that 
morning— by  which  the  first  blood  of  the  war  of  the 
Revolution  was  shed— took  place;  and  they  were 
startled  by  the  whistling  of  a  bullet  somewhere  near 
them,  passing,  as  was  supposed,  between  Mrs.  Clarke 
and  her  daughter  Mary,  afterward  Mrs.  Ware,  then  a 
girl  of  thirteen.  One  of  them  had  in  her  arms  an  infant 
child.  Mr.  Clarke,  with  his  daughter  Eliza,  of  between 
eleven  and  twelve  years  of  age,  remained  at  the  house, 
which  was  thronged  through  the  day  with  the  Ameri- 
can soldiers,  whom  they  served  with  cider,  bacon,  and 
brown  bread,  many  of  them  having  left  their  homes 
before  breakfast  and  travelled  several  miles  without 
refreshment.  For  want  of  sufficient  accommodations 
for  so  man}^,  their  guests  were  seated  on  the  floor,  and 
helped  themselves  with  their  fingers.  About  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  having  exhausted  his  supply  of  provi- 
sions, Mr.  Clarke  left  his  house  and  joined  his  family. 
He  died  in  1805,  aged  seventy-five  years,  having  brought 
up  to  adult  age  six  sons  and  six  daughters,  on  a  salary 
of  eighty  pounds  in  money  and  twenty  cords  of  wood. 
His  ministry,  like  that  of  his  predecessor,  had  extended 
over  more  than  half  a  century. 

Of  ten  children  who  were  born  of  the  marriage  of 
Henry  Ware,  senior,  and  Mary  Clarke,  four  daughters 
died  in  infancy  ;  three  sons  and  three  daughters  surviv- 
ing to  the  middle  period  of  life.     Henry  Ware,  Jr.,  was 
1* 


G  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

the  fifth  child,  and  the  oldest  son.  In  beginning  an 
account  of  his  life,  we  may  observe,  that  the  interest 
which  attaches  to  the  early  years  of  the  subject  of  a 
biography  does  not  depend  upon  the  events  and  inci- 
dents of  those  years  themselves,  but  upon  the  compari- 
son which  we  may  be  enabled  to  institute  between  the 
circumstances  under  which  the  boy  grows  up,  and  the 
character  which  the  man  afterwards  exhibits.  The 
events  of  childhood  and  youth  are  in  themselves  com- 
paratively unimportant ;  they  may,  indeed,  vary  but  little 
in  different  persons.  But  the  impressions  left  by  them 
on  the  mind  may  be  of  the  most  opposite  sort,  according 
to  the  nature  of  the  influences  under  which  this  period 
of  life  has  been  passed.  Nor  can  we  venture  to  predict 
with  anything  like  certainty,  from  a  knowledge  of  the 
boy,  what  the  man  is  likely  to  be.  A  marvellous  change 
often  takes  place  in  the  transition  from  youth  to  man- 
hood, which  could  never  have  been  anticipated  from 
any  of  the  obvious  indications  of  early  life.  Still  this 
change  may  have  been,  and,  perhaps,  very  generally  is, 
the  consequence  of  impressions,  which  were  then  made, 
But  which  at  the  time  appeared  to  be  entirely  unheeded 
and  unfelt.  The  seed  was  then  sown,  as  it  seemed,  in 
vain  ;  but,  though  it  did  not  germinate,  it  did  not  die  ; 
and  at  some  future  period  it  quickens  and  comes  into 
life  and  activity  under  new  influences.  There  are  some 
men,  in  whom  the  character  of  the  child  passes  gradu- 
ally into,  and  blends  with,  that  of  the  man ;  the  same 
tendencies  are  followed  out,  the  same  qualities  are 
ripened,  —  the  man  is  a  continuation  of  the  boy.  There 
are  others,  in  whom  a  great  alteration  takes  place ;  the 
character  undergoes  a  great  apparent  change,  and  one 
for  which  it  seems  difficult  to  account :  new  qualities 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  7 

spring  up,  and  it  almost  appears  as  if  new  faculties  had 
been  developed ;— the  boy  and  the  man  are  opposite. 
Yet,  in  both  cases,  it  may  be  equally  true,  that  the  in- 
fluences and  impressions  of  early  life  have  decided  the 
ultimate  features  of  the  character,  though  their  result 
has  been  brought  about  so  slowly,  and  shown  itself 
after  so  long  an  interval,  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  to 
trace  the  connexion.  The  man  may  be  like  the  boy  or 
unlike  the  boy ;  but,  in  either  case,  it  is  the  influences 
acting  on  the  boy,  that  have  made  the  man  what  he  is. 
But,  in  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  there  was  no  such 
want  of  correspondence  between  the  promises  of  child- 
hood and  youth,  and  the  actual  character  of  mature  life. 
The  seed  did  not  lie  dormant,  but  quickened  as  it  fell ; 
the  summer  and  autumn  only  fulfilled,  or  more  than  ful- 
filled, the  promise  of  the  spring.  It  is  seldom  that  we 
see  so  distinctly,  in  the  man,  the  fruits  of  the  influences 
which  have  acted  on  the  boy.  His  character  seems  to 
have  been  in  a  regular  course  of  formation  from  the  very 
first;  and  we  trace  in  him,  in  his  earliest  years,  the 
same  general  traits  which  distinguished  him  in  his  after 
life.  Hence  the  history  of  these  years  constitutes,  per- 
haps, the  most  important  part  of  his  biography.  Then 
impressions  were  made,  a  tendency  was  given,  and 
habits  of  thought,  feeling,  study,  and  action  were  formed, 
which  appear  to  have  decided  his  whole  future  course. 
Above  all,  at  this  period  he  seems  to  have  had  steadily 
in  contemplation  a  distinct  purpose  in  life ;  a  circum- 
stance, which  not  only  contributed  to  give  a  certain 
direction  to  the  cultivation  of  his  mind  at  the  time, 
but  had  an  important  agency  in  the  formation  of  those 
essential  qualities,  to  which  the  success  of  his  subse- 
quent  course  is  to   be  attributed.     I    shall   endeavor, 


8  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

therefore,  as  far  as  my  own  recollection,  or  the  mate- 
rials which  I  have  been  able  to  collect,  give  me  the 
means,  to  enter  into  a  somewhat  minute  account  of  his 
early  years,  the  circumstances  under  which  he  was 
educated,  and  under  which  his  character  was  formed. 

As  a  boy,  he  presented  very  much  the  same  aspect  as 
that  which  belonged  to  him  when  a  man.  He  was  then, 
as  he  was  always  afterwards,  very  pale,  though  not  of 
an  unhealthy  look.  He  was  tender,  and  suffered  from 
several  attacks  of  severe  illness ;  but  generally  his  health 
was  good,  and  he  was  not  regarded  as  a  sickly  child. 
He  was  sober  and  thoughtful  both  in  countenance  and 
disposition ;  peaceable  and  quiet  in  his  amusements,  but 
not  withdrawing  himself  from  the  plays  or  the  com- 
panions proper  to  his  age.  Yet  there  was  then,  as 
there  was  through  life,  something  of  bodily  inactivity, 
an  indolence  of  disposition,  a  want  of  physical  vigor 
and  sprightliness.  He  was  docile  and  obedient,  faith- 
ful in  his  studies  and  other  duties,  but  still  not  forward, 
nor  of  rapid  progress,  as  a  student. 

It  is  impossible  to  designate  the  period  at  which  reli- 
gious impressions  were  first  made  upon  his  mind.  It 
would  be  difficult,  indeed,  to  look  back  upon  any  mo- 
ment at  which  he  was  destitute  of  them.  He  had  the 
happiness  to  be  brought  up  under  the  guidance  of  pa- 
rents, with  whom  religion  was  not  so  much  a  thing  of 
times  and  seasons,  as  it  was  an  element  of  their  daily 
life  and  conversation.  It  was,  therefore,  presented  to 
his  mind  in  its  most  attractive  form,  constantly  kept  in 
view,  held  up  as  the  most  important  concern  in  life,  but 
divested  of  that  air  of  formality  and  sadness,  which  so 
often  makes  it  repulsive  to  children.  Instruction  on  this 
topic  was  constant,  but  not  burdensome.     Family  wor- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  9 

ship  and  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures  were  made  an 
indispensable  part  of  the  duty  of  the  day.  but  not  pro- 
tracted so  as  to  be  tedious  to  the  young  :  whilst  private 
devotion  was  so  inculcated,  as  to  make  its  omission  felt 
as  an  act  of  ingratitude  to  the  Creator.  Every  occasion 
of  trial,  sickness,  or  death,  afforded  an  opportunity  for 
gentle,  but  distinct  admonitions,  intended  to  impress  on 
the  young  mind  the  uncertainty  and  dangers  of  life,  the 
certainty  of  death,  and  the  reality  of  eternity  and  judg- 
ment. The  Sabbath  was  to  be  regarded  as  holy  time, 
a  day  by  itself,  essentially  different  from  the  other  days 
of  the  week  in  its  object  and  employments ;  not  as  a 
day  on  which  man  was  to  be  more  religious  than  on 
other  days,  but  on  which  religion  was  to  become  more 
peculiarly  the  subject  of  meditation  and  study.  Still  it 
was  not  made  gloomy  by  tasks  or  restraints  so  severe, 
as  to  associate  it  with  the  idea  of  privation  and  austerity. 
It  was  suffered  to  be  a  day  of  cheerfulness,  but  yet  of 
moderate  restraint  upon  the  buoyancy  and  playfulness 
of  childhood. 

When  still  very  young,  Henry  manifested  a  predilec- 
tion for  the  profession  which  he  afterwards  chose.  This 
became  the  permanent  bias  of  his  mind  at  a  much  earlier 
period  than  is  usual  among  children.  It  is,  indeed,  not 
at  all  remarkable,  that  the  son  of  a  clergyman  should 
entertain  a  fancy  for  the  calling  of  his  father.  The 
same  thing  happens  with  regard  to  every  occupation. 
It  existed  in  other  members  of  the  family,  as  well  as  in 
him.  With  all  of  them  it  was  a  favorite  amusement  to 
imitate  the  services  of  the  Sabbath,  even  to  their  father's 
gestures,  tone,  and  manner ;  and  the  different  children 
officiated  in  turn,  as  each  could  collect  an  audience. 
There  was  nothing  peculiar  in  this,   for  probably  the 


10  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

children  of  most  preachers  do  the  same  thing.  But  with 
Henry  there  was  something  more  than  this.  What  with 
others  is  a  transient  amusement,  in  him  indicated,  or  at 
least  contributed  to  give,  a  permanent  tendency  to  his 
mind.  The  office  of  a  clergyman  became  that  on  which 
his  eyes  were  turned  from  boyhood.  It  might  have 
been,  at  first,  a  childish  fancy,  but  it  grew  into  a  settled 
purpose.  The  play  was  forgotten,  but  the  preference 
with  which  it  was  connected,  or  which  it  had  produced, 
grew  with  his  growth  and  strengthened  with  his  strength. 
From  that  time  forward  he  kept  it  before  his  mind  as 
a  distinct  object  of  pursuit,  far  more  constantly  than  any 
serious  purpose  is  commonly  entertained  in  childhood. 
Whenever  the  subject  of  their  future  employment  was 
matter  of  discussion  in  the  family  circle  of  which  he 
formed  one,  as  it  usually  is  in  such  little  communities, 
he  was  always  of  the  same  mind ;  his  purpose  always 
was  to  be  a  minister ;  and,  as  far  as  children  are  capa- 
ble of  entertaining  distinct  views  concerning  anything 
of  which  they  know  so  little,  his  sisters  and  brothers 
also  regarded  this  as  his  peculiar  and  appropriate  desti- 
nation. I  doubt,  indeed,  whether  the  idea  of  a  different 
one  ever  presented  itself  seriously  or  for  any  length  of 
time,  from  the  days  when  he  preached  a  juvenile  sermon 
of  his  own  composition  from  a  cradle  turned  on  end 
as  a  pulpit,  to  that  in  which  he  actually  assumed  the 
office  of  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  and  made  his  appear- 
ance in  the  sacred  desk. 

There  is  another  circumstance  in  his  childhood  which 
is  worthy  of  being  recorded,  as  having  probably  had 
much  influence  in  training  his  mind,  and  qualifying  him 
for  the  place  which  he  afterward  filled.  By  some  ac- 
cident he  was  led  very  early  to  attempt,  and  gradually 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  1L 

to  form,  the  habit  of  composition.  Many  children  make 
trials  of  this  sort,  but  there  are  few  who  persevere  so  as 
to  render  it  easy  to  them,  or  who  continue  it  after  the 
first  impulse  is  over  and  it  ceases  to  have  the  charm  of 
novelty.  But  with  him  it  was  not  so  ;  he  continued  to 
derive  pleasure  from  the  exercise  ;  he  became  more  and 
more  engaged  in  it,  till  it  grew  at  length  to  be  a  fixed 
habit.  He  began  as  early  as  the  year  1802,  when  he 
wrote  some  reflections  on  the  death  of  a  sister,  expressive 
of  the  feelings  excited  in  his  mind  by  that  event.  This 
was  followed  at  intervals  by  other  efforts,  and,  after  the 
age  of  nine  or  ten.  these  became  more  and  more  frequent. 
They  were  of  various  kinds.  Sermons,  history,  biog- 
raphy, epics,  and  other  poems,  were  all  projected  or 
begun,  though  seldom  finished :  but  the  predominating 
tendency  undoubtedly  was  to  the  writing  of  verses  ;  and, 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  pieces,  those  which  remain 
of  his  earlier  compositions  are  poetical. 

To  this  early  practice  of  expressing  his  thoughts  on 
paper,  and  especially  to  the  habit  thus  acquired  of  over- 
coming the  difficulties  of  metrical  composition,  may  be 
attributed  very  much  that  readiness  in  the  use  of  the 
pen,  both  in  prose  and  verse,  for  which  he  was  certainly 
remarkable.  Few  persons  write  with  so  great  facility. 
Writing,  which  to  most  men  is  a  task,  and  to  some  even 
a  painful  one.  was  to  him  a  positive  pleasure.  In  the 
same  way.  also,  he  acquired  a  power  of  arranging  and 
methodizing  his  thoughts  on  any  subject  with  great 
quickness,  as  well  as  of  clothing  them  rapidly  with 
words.  The  influence  which  early  efforts  at  versifica- 
tion may  have  in  enabling  a  writer  to  acquire  ease  and 
readiness  of  expression,  and  perhaps  still  more  in  impart- 
ing something  of  attractiveness  and  beauty  to  his  style, 


12  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

does  not  seem  to  be  always  sufficiently  appreciated. 
It  is  not  difficult  to  see  how  the  discipline,  which  is 
necessary  in  order  to  make  the  language  which  carries 
our  thoughts  move  gracefully  to  the  music  of  poetical 
measure,  will  so  cultivate  the  ear  and  the  powers  of 
expression,  as  to  give  ease,  beauty,  and  harmony  to  the 
style  of  the  same  writer,  when  freed  from  the  regular 
movement  of  verse.  Neither  can  it  be  of  less  advantage 
to  clearness  of  thinking,  and  consequently  to  perspicuity 
in  expressing  thoughts,  that  a  writer  should  have  been 
accustomed  to  commit  them  to  paper.  The  surest  pre- 
ventive of  a  habit  of  vague  and  indefinite  thinking,  is 
the  practice  in  early  life  of  writing  out  our  thoughts  as 
soon  as  we  begin  to  have  them.  We  thus  learn  to  think 
methodically  and  clearly  from  the  beginning. 

This  habit  continued  with  him  through  life.  He 
thought,  read,  and  almost  lived  with  the  pen  in  his 
hand,  ready  to  fix  and  give  form  and  feature  to  the  ideas 
which  arose  in  his  mind,  or  were  suggested  by  the  books 
he  read;  or  to  note  such  passages  in  his  reading  as 
might  serve  him  afterward  for  contemplation  or  other 
use.  The  amount  which  he  thus  committed  to  paper 
was  very  great.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that  most  of  it  was 
done  in  that  desultory,  irregular  manner  in  which  he 
was  apt  to  indulge,  on  loose  pieces  of  paper,  on  the  backs 
of  notes,  etc.,  and  not  in  regular  volumes.  Hence  this 
practice  was  of  far  less  value  to  him,  except  as  an  exer- 
cise and  a  discipline,  than  it  might  otherwise  have  been  ; 
and  what  he  thus  reduced  to  writing  is  of  comparatively 
little  value  to  others. 

His  early  compositions  cannot  be  considered  as  re- 
markable for  anything  except  as  giving  evidence  of 
the  strong  feelings  which  he  entertained  on  religious 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,  JR.  13 

subjects;  though  there  may  be  somewhat  more  com- 
mand of  language  than  is  usual  at  his  age.  The  motive 
for  inserting  from  time  to  time  some  of  these  juvenile 
exercises  is  sufficiently  obvious.  They  are  not  pre- 
sented as  specimens  of  a  precocious  or  even  a  particu- 
larly promising  youth ;  they  are  mere  elements  of  the 
history  of  his  progress.  If  it  be  worth  while  to  trace 
the  formation  of  his  mind  and  character  at  all,  it  is 
worth  while  to  examine  it  in  its  earliest  developments, 
whatever  they  may  have  been.  I  have  alluded  to  the 
following  production,  as  the  first  which  he  is  known  to 
have  written.  It  still  exists  in  his  own  boyish  hand- 
writing, as  it  was  copied  by  him  a  few  years  afterward. 
It  was  composed  when  he  was  eight  years  and  a  half 
old. 

11  HENRY    WARE    ON    THE    DEATH    OF    MARTHA. 

"  Oh  Martha!  you  have  gone  through  your  short  pilgrimage, 
your  life  of  troubles  and  afflictions.  You  have  got  to  the 
tomb  before  us.  You  have  gone  through  what  we  upon  earth 
have  got  to  go  through.  Your  life  was  precious,  and  your 
character  was  pleasing.  We  all  mourn  for  you,  but  we  need 
not  mourn,  for  you  are  going  to  a  better  world. 

"  Oh  Martha !  thou  lovely  child !  you  are  now  gone  from 
this  world,  never  to  return." 

There  remain  also,  carefully  copied  into  a  little  book, 
birth-day  reflections  for  the  years  1805-6-7,  when  he 
was  respectively  eleven,  twelve,  and  thirteen  years  of 
age.  They  exhibit  the  strong  and  continued  religious 
feelings  which  had  been  excited  in  him. 
2 


14  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,  JR. 

"  BIRTH-DAY    REFLECTIONS    FOR    THE    YEARS    1S05,    1806,    1807. 

"  April  21,  1805. 

"  As  it  has  pleased  the  Lord  God  Almighty  to  spare  my 
life  another  year,  I  would  now  make  some  observation  upon  it. 

"  May  I  the  following  year  be  impressed  with  serious 
thoughts  and  resolutions.  Remembering  my  Creator  in  the 
days  of  my  youth,— considering  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  in 
preserving  me  the  past  year  from  danger,  and  preserving  me  to 
the  present  time.  It  is  owing  to  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  that 
I  am  not  consumed ;  blessed  be  his  name  for  all  his  goodness 
toward  me. 

"  By  the  late  melancholy  event*  that  has  happened  in  the 
family,  may  I  be  led  to  make  serious  reflections  considering 
that  Life  is  short !  That  I  must  shortly  (the  Lord  only  knows 
when)  quit  this  world  of  trouble  and  affliction,  for  a  world 
where  there  is  no  weeping,  where  saints  live  together  in  peace, 
and  enjoy  everlasting  life,  and  that  if  I  wish  to  live  in  heaven 
above,  I  must  live  a  righteous  and  holy  life  here  below ;  but 
that  if  I  live  in  sin,  not  believing  in  the  word  of  God,  I  shall 
be  cast  into  hell  where  none  but  devils  dwell. 

"  May  I  obey  my  father  and  mother,  according  to  the  fifth 
commandment :  ■  Honor  thy  Father  and  Mother/  &c. ;  may  I 
be  kind  to  my  brothers  and  sisters,  and  obliging  to  my  play- 
mates ;  and  increase  in  all  useful  knowledge. 

"  And  may  the  Lord  God  Almighty  strengthen  me  in  all  my 
resolutions. " 

"April  21,  1806. 

"  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  God  Almighty  for  all  his 
goodness  towards  me  ;  he  has  brought  me  in  perfect  health  and 
safety  to  the  twelfth  anniversary  of  my  birth ;  has  carried  me 
through  all  the  dangers  to  which  I  have  been  exposed;  has 
kept  me  in  the  land  of  the  living,  while  multitudes  are 
numbered  with  the  dead;   and  has  preserved  me  in  perfect 

*  Death  of  my  sister  Martha  Ami. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  15 

health,  when  some  of  my  friends  and  companions  have  been 
languishing  on  beds  of  sickness.  I  have  had  sufficient  meat 
and  drink  while  others  have  had  none. 

"  '  While  some  poor  wretches  scarce  can  tell 
Where  they  may  lay  their  head, 
I  have  a  home  wherein  to  dwell, 
And  rest  upon  my  bed.' 

"  How  shall  I  repay  this  kindness  of  the  Lord  ?  What 
shall  I  render  to  the  Lord  for  all  his  goodness  toward  me  ? 
1  Words  are  too  feeble  to  express  the  feelings  which  ought  to 
take  possession  of  my  heart.'  '  Bless  God !  O  my  soul,  and 
forget  not  all  his  benefits.' 

"  While  I  am  thus  thankful  for  myself,  I  should  not  be 
unmindful  of  my  friends.  My  father  has  been  continued  to  see 
my  twelfth  birth-day,  and  his  forty-third  year.  God  grant 
that  he  may  live  to  see  my  next.  My  mother — alas  !  she  has 
been  snatched  away  by  the  relentless  jaws  of  death  !  But  why 
should  I  lament  her  loss  ?  She  is  doubtless  happier  than  she 
could  be  in  this  world.  A  year  ago  to-day  she  pronounced  a 
blessing  on  me  for  the  last  time  !  My  brothers  and  sisters 
have  all  been  continued  alive  another  year,  and  I  humbly  pray 
God  to  spare  them  another  year." 

"  This  was  left  unfinished." 

"April  21,  1807. 
"  The  all-protecting  power  of  God  has  been  exercised 
towards  me  the  past  year.  I  have  been  preserved  in  life  and 
health,  and  from  all  dangers  to  which  I  have  been  exposed.  I 
am  now  brought  to  the  thirteenth  anniversary  of  my  birth.  I 
am  still  continued  in  the  land  of  the  living,  while  multitudes 
have  been  dying  around  me. 

"  '  Not  more  than  others  I  deserve, 
Yet  God  hath  given  me  more  ; 
For  I  have  food,  while  others  starve, 
Or  beg-  from  door  to  door. ' 


16  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

"  How  can  I  express  my  gratitude  to  the  Lord  for  all  his 
goodnesses  towards  me  ?  How  shall  I  reward  them  ?  They 
are  more  in  number  than  I  can  count.  I  should  thank  the 
Lord  that  I  was  born  and  educated  in  a  Christian  land  ;  that  I 
have  the  holy  Scriptures  in  a  language  that  I  can  understand, 
'  which  are  able  to  make  me  wise  unto  salvation.' 

"  *  Lord,  I  ascribe  it  to  thy  grace, 
And  not  to  chance  as  others  do, 
That  I  was  born  of  Christian  race, 
And  not  a  heathen  or  a  Jew.' 

"  c  The  praises  of  my  tongue, 
I'll  offer  to  the  Lord, 
That  I  was  taught  and  learnt  so  young 
To  read  his  holy  word.'  " 

There  would  seem  to  have  been  something  in  his 
character,  even  when  very  young,  which  inspired  con- 
fidence and  gave  ground  for  reliance  both  on  his  discre- 
tion and  on  his  courage.  When  not  yet  six  years  old, 
as  his  father  recollected,  he  was  entrusted  with  the 
important  office  of  riding  a  horse  to  mill.  The  distance 
was  about  half  a  mile ;  the  corn  was  thrown  over  the 
horse's  back  in  a  long  bag,  upon  which  the  boy  sat; 
and,  after  he  had  waited  till  it  was  ground,  the  meal 
was  brought  home  in  the  same  way.  On  these  errands 
he  never  met  with  any  accident ;  but  on  another  occasion 
he  was  less  fortunate.  Being  sent  with  several  com- 
missions to  a  considerable  distance  in  the  town,  the  horse 
which  he  rode  became  frightened  and  unmanageable,  and 
finally  ran  away  with  him.  His  race  home  through 
the  streets  was  not  unlike  that  of  John  Gilpin  ;  for,  being 
burdened  with  several  parcels,  he  distributed  them  one 
by  one  along  the  road,  being  obliged  to  part  company 
with  them  in  order  to  keep  his  seat,  and  at  length  lost 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  17 

his  hat.  The  horse  and  his  rider  finally  reached  home 
together,  at  full  speed,  and  in  safety ;  but  just  before 
turning  into  the  yard,  they  passed  underneath  a  ladder 
which  rested  against  a  tree,  and  Henry,  in  order  to  avoid 
striking  his  head  against  it,  slipped  off  to  the  ground 
unhurt.  This  adventure,  I  am  quite  confident,  he 
attempted  to  commemorate  in  verse  after  the  manner  of 
Cowper.  No  remains  of  such  a  composition,  however, 
exist,  and  it  is  probable  he  found  the  subject  somewhat 
too  difficult  to  grapple  with. 

When  he  was  eleven  years  old,  a  change  occurred  in 
the  situation  of  the  family,  which  had  a  most  important 
influence  upon  his  prospects  in  life.  In  the  winter  of 
1S05,  his  father  was  chosen  to  succeed  Dr.  Tappan  as 
Professor  of  Divinity  in  Harvard  College ;  and,  having 
accepted  the  office,  he  removed  to  Cambridge  in  the  spring 
of  the  same  year.  This  election  very  much  divided  the 
community,  and  was  sharply  contested  in  the  board  of 
Overseers,  on  account  of  the  theological  opinions  of  the 
candidate.  It  was,  however,  at  last  confirmed  by  them. 
This  was  a  prominent  event  in  the  religious  history  of 
the  day;  and  it  was,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  one  of  the 
earliest  occasions,  if  not  the  earliest,  on  which  the  dispo- 
sition was  manifested  to  draw  a  line  of  division  between 
those  portions  of  the  religious  community,  which  have 
since  become  so  widely  separated  from  each  other. 

My  father  had  been  settled  at  Hingham  originally  on 
a  salary  of  only  four  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  which 
was  gradually  raised  to  seven  hundred.  But  even  this 
he  had  found  to  be  far  from  adequate  to  the  support  of 
a  very  large  family,  and  he  had  therefore  increased  his 
income  by  the  common  expedient  of  taking  boys  into  his 
house  to  board  and  instruct.  TCy  his  appointment  at 
2* 


18  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

Cambridge  he  was  at  once  removed  from  very  straitened 
circumstances  to  a  condition  of  comparative  comfort, 
and  was  enabled  to  provide  for  his  children  a  much 
better  education  than  they  could  otherwise  have  hoped 
to  obtain. 

This  change  in  the  condition  of  the  family  was  fol- 
lowed speedily  by  one  of  those  bereavements,  which  are  so 
common  that  they  leave  but  little  impression  beyond  the 
immediate  circle  in  which  they  take  place,  and  which 
are  yet  there  of  so  overwhelming  an  importance.  Mrs. 
Ware,  the  mother  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  had  for 
many  years  suffered  from  very  feeble  health.  She  had 
been  ill  for  some  months,  yet  not  so  as  to  excite  great 
apprehension ;  but  soon  after  her  removal  to  Cambridge 
she  became  rapidly  worse,  and  died  July  13th,  1805,  in 
the  forty-fourth  year  of  her  age.  No  human  being  could 
owe  more  to  a  parent,  than  Henry,  as  well  as  all  the 
other  children  of  his  family,  owed  to  that  father  who 
still  survived.  I  trust  that  it  will  be  made  to  appear  in 
the  course  of  these  pages,  imperfectly  no  doubt,  how  a 
part  at  least  of  this  debt  of  gratitude  was  incurred.  But 
of  that  other  parent,  upon  whom  so  much  of  the  early 
education  of  a  family  depends,  her  children,  unhappily, 
can  recollect  nothing,  except  those  kind  and  tender 
offices  which  maternal  love  knows  so  well  how  to  per- 
form during  the  helpless  days  of  infancy  and  childhood. 
The  influence  which  a  mother  is  capable  of  having  upon 
the  character  of  children,  is  duly  estimated.  Many 
men,  eminent  for  their  piety  and  usefulness,  have  attrib- 
uted their  religious  character  and  course  of  life  to  the 
impressions  received  from  a  mother's  teachings  or  a 
mother's  prayers,  which  were  sooner  or  later  effectual. 
But  of  the  character  of  her  who  had  the  charge  of 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  19 

Henry's  early  years,  and  communicated  the  first  impulses 
to  religion  and  virtue,  there  are  few  who  can  now  speak. 
Her  contemporaries  are  all  gone,  and  indeed  none  are 
left  who  knew  her,  except  such  as  were  of  an  age  too 
immature  to  appreciate  her  character.  The  only  remain- 
ing memorials  are  a  few  letters  and  other  papers,  chiefly 
written  during  sickness  and  affliction.  They  exhibit, 
above  all  things  else,  a  well-regulated  mind,  feeling 
deeply,  but  enduring  with  cheerfulness  and  tranquillity  ; 
a  pervading  religious  spirit,  a  constant  reference  to  the 
love  of  God  and  to  the  kindness  of  his  providence,  and 
a  high  sense  of  the  duty  of  submitting  with  patience 
and  fortitude,  and  without  repining,  to  the  divine  will. 
They  exhibit  precisely  such  a  character  as  seems  fitted 
to  reproduce,  by  its  direct  and  indirect  maternal  influ- 
ence, the  same  qualities  in  a  child  of  a  docile  and  gentle 
nature ;  to  sow  the  seeds  which  in  her  child  actually 
grew  and  ripened  into  so  abundant  a  harvest. 

At  the  time  when  her  sickness  became  alarming, 
Henry,  with  one  of  his  brothers,  was  at  school  in  Dux- 
bury.  A  month  before  her  death,  she  wrote  to  them  as 
follows : 

"  Menotomy,^  Sunday,  June  9,  1805. 
"  My  dear  Boys, 

"  You  will  see  by  the  date  that  I  am  at  your  uncle  Fisk's, 
and  it  rains  so  hard  I  cannot  have  the  pleasure  of  going  to 
meeting  with  your  sisters.  I  think  I  cannot  now  better  employ 
my  time  than  in  saying  a  few  words  to  my  dear,  my  very 
dear,  absent  boys.  You  undoubtedly  wish  to  know  how  I  have 
been  since  wTe  parted,  and  I  have  the  comfort  of  telling  you  I 
am  better.  I  hope  you  will  have  been  writing  to  me  to-day, 
as  I  desired  when  you  left  me,  unless  it  should  interfere  with 

*  Now  West  Cambridge. 


20  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

the  employments  Mr.  Allyn  assigns  you  for  Sundays.  I  wish 
you  to  tell  him  that  I  wish  each  of  you  to  write  me  a  few  lines 
every  Sunday,  if  agreeable  to  him.  I  trust,  dear  Henry  and 
John,  that  you  will  continue  to  behave  well,  and  perform  all 
your  duties  constantly  and  with  pleasure,  particularly  your 
religious  duties.  As  I  hope  you  will  recollect  what  I  have 
often  said  to  you  on  the  subject,  so  I  shall  only  now  say,  that 
you  must  not  suffer  this  separation  from  your  parents,  your 
brother  and  sisters,  to  divert  your  thoughts  from  the  greatest 
and  first  duty  of  your  life, — your  duty  to  God.  Kemember 
that  he  is  everywhere  present,  and  that  his  eye  always  beholds 
your  steps,  and  keeps  you  from  falling  into  dangers." 

A  few  days  afterward,  my  father  finished  the  sheet 
with  the  following  words : 

"  Your  mother  is  not  so  well  since  she  wrote  this  letter,  and 
is  indeed  much  more  unwell  than  when  you  left  Cambridge. 
I  beg  you  to  keep  this  letter  carefully,  when  you  have  read  it, 
and  not  only  read  it,  but  attend  most  faithfully  to  the  wishes 
and  directions  of  a  mother  to  whom  you  are  more  indebted 
than  it  is  possible  for  you  now  to  understand." 

This  direction  seems  to  have  been  dictated  by  appre- 
hensions which  were  only  too  soon  realized.  We  were 
shortly  summoned  home  to  receive  her  dying  blessing. 
I  add  to  this  brief  account  an  extract  from  another  of 
her  letters,  written  to  one  of  her  sisters  in  the  spring 
preceding  her  death,  on  the  loss  of  an  infant,  a  few 
months  old,  the  fourth  child  with  which  she  had  been 
called  to  part.  I  insert  it  simply  because  it  indicates 
very  strongly  in  her,  a  state  of  feeling  with  regard  to  the 
divine  government,  which  was  always  a  predominant 
one  in  the  mind  of  her  son, — a  feeling  of  perfect  and 
unquestioning    reliance   on    the   wisdom,   justice,    and 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  21 

benevolence  of  God.  and  of  submission  without  murmur, 
and  even  with  cheerfulness,  to  the  doings  of  his  provi- 
dence. 

"  I  know  these  light  afflictions  do  not  produce  in  me  those 
fruits,  which  we  are  told  afflictions  and  trials  are  intended  to 
produce  on  the  hearts  and  lives  of  those  visited  with  them.  I 
think  it  is  our  undoubted  duty  to  yield  our  souls  to  the  stroke 
with  perfect  submission,  and  look  up  with  the  most  reverential 
awe  to  the  hand  which  inflicts  it,  yet  with  the  most  affectionate 
and  perfect  belief,  that  we  are  smitten  in  kindness  and  with 
the  views  and  feelings  of  a  parent  wrho  never  fails  to  remember 
mercy,  and  that,  in  order  to  our  being  ready  for  a  place 
assigned  us  hereafter,  we  must  be  trained  and  disciplined  by 
methods  best  adapted  to  produce  the  effect.  And  who  is  to  be 
the  judge  of  the  best  means  but  He  who  holds  all  hearts  in 
his  hand,  sees  all  their  secret  movements,  and  knows  what 
will  reform  the  heart  and  life,  and  bring  us  to  a  proper  sense 
of  his  government  and  of  our  dependence  on  his  sovereign  dis- 
posal for  every  blessing  wTe  enjoy,  and  every  evil  (as  we  say) 
we  suffer;  though,  so  far  from  being  real  evils,  they  may  be 
the  truest  blessings  we  receive  from  the  hand  of  our  Maker. 
If  indulgence  and  kind  and  gentle  treatment  of  our  children  do 
not  form  their  manners  and  habits  to  what  we  mark  out  as 
suitable  for  them,  we  are  obliged  to  adopt  severity,  wTe  feel  it 
necessary  to  inflict  punishments  and  withhold  rewards,  and 
withdraw  for  a  while  those  caresses  and  smiles,  which  consti- 
tute so  great  a  part  of  the  enjoyment  and  happiness  of  children. 
And  never  do  we  feel  our  affections  so  strong,  or  our  anxiety 
for  them  so  great,  as  whilst  we  see  them  suffering  under  this 
kind  of  correction,  which  we  intend  shall  bring  about  a  refor- 
mation, and  make  them  more  ready  to  submit  themselves 
without  obstinacy  or  reluctance  to  our  authority,— knowing  it 
to  be  the  only  means  to  establish  that  harmony  between  us, 
which  is  to  produce  their  happiness  and  secure  to  ourselves 
proper  regard  and  respect." 


&£  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

This  letter  was  left  unfinished,  and  the  train  of  reflec- 
tion never  carried  out ;  but  who  can  doubt  how  much  a 
daily  life  and  teaching  in  this  spirit,  in  the  mother,  must 
have  done  towards  laying  the  foundation  for  a  similar 
temper  of  mind  in  the  child  ? 

On  the  day  of  her  funeral,  our  father  gathered  his 
children  together  into  the  room  where  she  lay,  and, 
when  they  were  by  themselves,  surrounding  her  coffin, 
himself  calm  and  tranquil,  spoke  to  them  of  the  mother 
they  had  lost ;  of  what  she  had  done  and  suffered  for 
them ;  of  her  example  and  her  instructions ;  the  influ- 
ence this  event  should  have  upon  their  lives,  and  above 
all  in  making  them  feel  the  uncertainty  of  this  life,  and 
the  duty  of  preparing  for  another.  The  impression 
made  by  this  scene  was  of  the  most  solemn  and  perma- 
nent kind ;  for,  at  the  distance  of  forty  years,  it  comes 
back  to  the  mind  with  much  of  the  distinctness  of  a 
recent  event.  We  find  in  many  of  Henry's  productions, 
at  different  periods  of  his  life,  passages  evidently  sug- 
gested by  his  recollections  of  his  mother  and  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  her  death.  He  made  it  the  subject  of  a 
distinct  poem  of  considerable  length,  first  written  the 
same  year,  but  enlarged  and  corrected  afterwards ;  and 
he  alludes  to  it  also  in  a  later  one,  in  which  many  of  the 
events  of  his  own  life  are  introduced.  I  subjoin  a  few 
of  the  passages  here  referred  to,  as  illustrations  of  the 
state  of  his  feelings  and  of  the  progress  and  formation 
of  his  character. 


LINES    ON    THE    DEATH    OF    MY    MOTHER,"    WRITTEN     IN    THE 
AUTUMN    OF    1805. 


11  Yet  many  years  I  thought  I  should  have  trod 
This  stage  with  her,  she  pointing  to  my  God, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  23 

Directing  all  my  steps  in  virtue's  ways, 
And  tuning  my  young  heart  to  sing  his  praise. 
She  would  have  cheered  my  younger  days  of  life, 
And  led  me  harmless  on  from  worldly  strife. 
And  when  her  years  a  numerous  train  had  run, 
And  she  declined  with  life's  declining  sun, 
When  trembling,  furrowed  age  came  tottering  on, 
I  should  repay  her  kindness  as  a  son, 
Support  her  arm,  her  sorrowing  toils  assuage, 
And  lead  her  down  the  hill  of  feeble  age. 

"  0  may  I  live  like  her,  and  like  her  die  ; 
Living,  to  God's  commands  my  soul  apply  ; 
Blameless  and  virtuous  be  in  all  men's  sight, 
And  try  to  prove  myself  to  God  aright ; 
Dying,  to  his  just  will  my  soul  resign, 
And  count  the  triumphs  of  the  righteous  mine. 
Mother,  the  last  commands  from  thee  received, 
(When  almost  at  the  goal  of  life  arrived,) 
And  all  which  when  alive  thou  didst  impart, 
Be  ever  written  on  my  faithful  heart. 
Those  precepts  ever  be  my  guide,  my  friend, 
My  comforter,  till  life's  drear  journey  end. 
If  ever  from  my  heart  those  words  be  lost, 
As  sand  upon  the  foaming  ocean  tossed  ; 
If  e'er  from  virtue's  path,  the  perfect  way, 
In  which  thou  taught'st  me,  I  shall  go  astray, 
O !  may  thy  sainted  shade  my  ways  reprove, 
With  all  the  kindness  of  thy  former  love." 

FROM    "  MY    DREAM    OF    LIFE,"    AN    UNFINISHED    POEM. 

"  How  dear  is  every  room  beneath  that  roof! 
There  we  assembled  at  the  cheerful  meal, 
And  asked  Heaven's  blessing  on  a  band  of  love. 
There  the  gay  circle  on  a  winter's  eve 
Gathered  about  the  lavish  blaze,  and  pressed 
Within  the  chimney's  ample  range,  to  hear 
The  tales  of  wonder  childhood  loves  to  hear, 


24  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

And  age  delights  to  tell.     There  stood  my  bed  ; 

There  I  lay  waiting  for  a  mother's  kiss, 

And  soft  good-night ;  then  breathless  sought  to  catch 

Her  last  faint  footstep  as  she  slow  retired ; 

Then  drew  the  blanket  on  my  face  and  slept. 

Time  in  its  lengthened  flight  has  wrought  such  change. 

That  hardly  could  I  recognize  those  walls ; 

But  that  sweet  evening  kiss,  I  feel  it  now, 

I  hear  that  soft  good-night,  that  parting  step 

Still  faintly  fall  upon  my  waiting  ear. 

The  past  comes  thick  around  me  ;  faded  shapes, 

But  beautiful,  of  all  that  once  have  been, 

And  are  no  more.     I  sit  beside  the  hearth, 

And  weep  at  scenes  that  once  were  only  joy. 

"  0  !  what  is  tender  like  a  mother's  love, 
And  what  can  pay  its  loss  1     To  her  I  looked 
To  cheer  and  guide  me  in  the  fearful  way 
That  leads  through  toil  and  peril  into  life  ; 
And  trusted  then,  when  strength  and  wealth  were  mine, 
To  rock  the  cradle  of  her  fading  age, 
As  she  had  soothed  the  infancy  of  mine. 
But  Heaven  refused  the  boon.     There  is  a  grief 
Severe  with  double  anguish  ;  when  the  heart 
Sinks  burdened  with  a  present  woe,  and  waits 
For  darker  evils  hastening  in  its  train  ; — 
Such  grief  was  ours."  .... 

"  What  darkness  followed  then  ! 
It  settled  down  upon  the  present  scene 
In  thick  dismay,  and  on  the  future  cast 
An  ominous  shade,  involving  earth  and  life 
And  hope.     The  sacred  light  of  home  was  dimmed  : 
The  tender  smile,  the  voice  of  patient  love, 
The  anxious  counsel,  the  directing  eye, 
Cheered  the  sad  pathway  of  my  youth  no  more. 
The  shadow  settled  on  my  heart.     The  world 
Bad  other  lights,  but  none  to  fill  that  void  ; 
And  friends,  but  none  that  wore  a  mother's  heart.'' 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  25 

In  "  Jotham  Anderson"  are  many  passages  relating 
to  the  early  life  of  this  imaginary  personage,  evidently 
suggested  by  his  own  recollections  and  experience.  In 
this  work  he  speaks  of  his  mother  thus : 

"Were  all  mothers  like  mine,  how  greatly  would  the 
obedience  of  the  young  Christian's  pilgrimage  be  facilitated 
and  its  peace  ensured  !  I  love  to  dwell  on  the  memory  of  that 
honored  woman.  My  earliest  recollection  of  her  is  in  the  act 
of  teaching  me  to  pray,  when  she  every  evening  took  me  on 
her  knees,  and,  clasping  my  little  hands,  made  me  repeat  after 
her  my  childish  petitions.  Methinks  I  still  see  the  beautiful 
expression  of  her  maternal  eye,  and  feel  the  kiss,  full  of  affec- 
tion and  piety,  with  which  she  closed  the  service.  At  such 
times  she  would  explain  to  me  the  purposes  of  prayer,  and 
teach  me  to  love  the  good  Being,  who  gave  me  father  and 
mother,  and  made  me  happy.  It  was  her  practice,  also,  to 
seize  the  moments  when  my  young  heart  was  overflowing  with 
cheerfulness  and  good-will,  to  remind  me  of  the  Father  above, 
and  direct  my  gratitude  to  him." 

3 


CHAPTER    II. 

HIS    EARLY    EDUCATION,    AT    DUXBURY,.   CAMBRIDGE,    AND    ANDOVER 

ENTRANCE     INTO     COLLEGE    AND    COLLEGE    LIFE WINTER    AT     BEV- 
ERLY   IN    KEEPING    SCHOOL. 

1805—1812.     iET.  11—18. 

Of  his  early  education  I  recollect  but  little.  He  was 
taught  partly  at  home,  and  partly  in  the  private  and 
public  schools  of  his  native  town.  In  the  course  of  the 
years  1804  and  1805,  he  spent  considerable  time  in  the 
family,  and  under  the  tuition,  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Allyn, 
of  Duxbury.  Dr.  Allyn  was  a  classmate  and  intimate 
friend  of  his  father,  and  was  held  by  him  in  very  high 
regard.  He  was  a  man  remarkable,  among  the  clergy- 
men of  the  day,  for  his  many  eccentricities  of  manners 
and  habits,  but  not  less  so  for  his  strong  good  sense,  a 
quaint  and  original  humor,  and  unalloyed  benevolence 
and  kindness  of  heart.  Here,  it  is  believed,  Henry 
began  his  preparation  for  college. 

After  the  College  Commencement  of  1805,  Henry, 
with  his  brothers,  was  placed  under  the  tuition  of  their 
cousin,  Mr.  Ashur  Ware,  a  graduate  of  the  preceding 
year,  who  became  at  the  same  time  a  member  of  his 
father's  family.  He  remained  under  his  care  till  the 
spring  of  1807,  when,  on  the  election  of  Mr.  Ware  to  a 
Tutorship,  Mr.  Samuel  Merrill,  of  the  class  of  1807, 
took  his  place.     In  September  of  the  same  year,  he  was 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  27 

sent  to  Phillips  Academy,  in  Andover,  of  which  Mr. 
Mark  Newman  was  then  Preceptor ;  and  here  he  con- 
tinued till  his  admission  into  the  Freshman  class  at 
Cambridge,  in  September,  1808. 

At  Andover,  he  boarded  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Isaac 
Chandler,  a  very  respectable  and  pious  farmer,  at  the 
distance  of  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  Academy, 
in  company  with  a  number  of  other  boys  of  the  same 
age.  This  was  his  first  initiation  into  promiscuous 
society  of  those  of  his  own  age,  at  a  public  school,  away 
from  the  influences  of  parents  and  home ;  and  here, 
probably,  he  was  exposed  for  the  first  time  to  the  tempta- 
tions to  impurity  of  thought,  language,  and  conduct, 
from  which  so  very  few  escape  in  those  perilous  days 
of  our  life.  In  him,  happily,  any  such  taint  was  slight 
and  transient.  It  seemed  barely  to  have  tarnished  for 
the  moment  the  fair  surface  of  his  mind,  and  to  have 
left  no  stain  behind  it.  He  was  much  aided  in  his  escape 
from  the  dangers  of  his  age  and  situation  by  the  contin- 
uance, in  some  degree,  of  the  same  parental  guidance 
which  had  already  done  so  much  to  give  him  a  right 
tendency.  It  was  the  custom  of  his  father  to  keep  up 
as  frequent  a  communication  with  his  children,  when 
they  were  absent  from  home,  as  the  pressure  of  other 
duties  would  permit;  and  his  letters,  though  not  con- 
sisting of  labored  and  regular  admonitions,  seldom  failed 
to  contain  some  hints  or  short  expositions  with  regard 
to  modes  and  objects  of  study,  the  cultivation  of  good 
habits,  or  attention  to  moral  and  religious  duties,  which 
probably  had  the  more  effect  from  their  incidental  char- 
acter, and  this  very  absence  of  formality.  The  follow- 
ing are  extracts  from  his  letters  to  Henry  while  at 
Andover ;  those  which  called  them  forth,  or  which  were 
written  in  reply  to  them,  having  been  lost. 


28  LITE    OF    HENRY    WARE, 

"  Sept.  26,  1807. 

"  I  hope  you  are  laying  up  knowledge  now  as  fast  as  you 
can.  Let  me  advise  you,  particularly,  to  make  great  use  of 
your  memory,  and  make  great  exertion  to  strengthen  it.  No 
faculty  we  have  is  more  improvable ;  and  no  one  is  more  apt 
to  be  neglected.  It  will  be  well  to  copy  the  choicest  passages 
of  the  classics  into  your  blank  book ;  but  it  will  be  still  better 
to  imprint  them  indelibly  in  your  memory. 

"  Your  handwriting  I  wish  you  to  improve  in.  I  am  glad 
you  have  the  opportunity  of  instruction,  and  hope  you  will  be 
most  diligent  in  the  hours  assigned  to  it,  to  acquire  at  least  a 
decent,  if  not  an  elegant  use  of  the  pen.  You  are  now  at  the 
best  age  for  attaining  that  accomplishment.  I  hope  you  will 
not  undervalue  it,  and  that  you  wTill  give  me  specimens  of  your 
improvement  in  your  letters." 

One  of  the  subjects  touched  upon  in  this  letter,  the 
improvableness  of  the  memory,  with  the  great  impor- 
tance of  attention  to  it  as  a  part  of  education,  was  a 
point  upon  which  his  father  frequently  insisted  in  his 
letters  and  on  other  occasions.  He  was  led  to  do  this 
by  what  he  regarded  as  a  mistake  which  he  had  made 
in  his  own  case,  from  an  erroneous  early  impression, 
that  this  faculty  is  not  to  be  improved  by  cultivation, 
but  is  a  gift  bestowed  by  nature  on  some,  and  denied 
to  others. 

"  March  8,  1S0S. 

"  I  was  gratified  with  your  letter,  as  a  mark  of  your  atten- 
tion, as  an  evidence  of  your  improvement,  as  an  assurance  of 
your  happiness,  and  as  giving  me  a  pleasant  account  of  your 
progress  the  preceding  week.  I  this  moment  hear  of  an 
opportunity  of  sending  your  Huntingford,  and  shall  hope  to 
receive  as  good  an  account  of  succeeding  weeks,  as  you  gave 
me  of  the  first I  am  very  glad  to  have  you  send 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  29 

for  Huntingford.  I  hope  you  will  exercise  yourself  in  it  as 
much  as  you  can,  besides  what  you  have  occasion  to  do  as  an 
exercise  in  the  Academy.  Not  that  I  wish  to  press  your 
studies  beyond  your  ability  and  health.  You  must  allow 
yourself  a  proper  proportion  of  exercise,  but  be  careful  to  make 
some  good  use  of  all  your  fragments  of  time,  wThich  are  not 
devoted  to  your  exercises,  nor  necessary  for  relaxation.  It  is 
your  use  of  fragments  of  time  which  are  usually  lost,  that  is 
to  make  you  a  scholar.  I  hope,  by  the  end  of  the  term,  you 
will  have  a  good  account  to  give  me  of  other  gains,  beside 
those  of  your  Greek  Testament  on  the  Sabbath." 

"  June  23,  1808. 

"  Let  not  your  plan  of  coming 

home  distract  your  attention  from  the  exercises  of  the  Academy. 
Give  your  whole  attention  to  your  studies  till  the  hour  of 
relaxation,  and  then  relax  entirely.  Habituate  yourself  to 
undivided  attention  when  you  do  attend,  and  when  you  un- 
bend, do  it  entirely.  Never  let  the  thought  of  amusement 
break  in  upon  your  studies,  nor  the  thought  of  your  studies 
mar  your  enjoyment." 

The  four  years  of  Henry's  college  life  were  passed  in 
his  father's  family,  who  then  lived  in  the  old  Sewall 
house,  lately  taken  down,  which  stood  nearly  opposite 
the  head  of  Holyoke  Street.  Of  this  period,  I  find  few 
memorials.  Living  at  home,  and  having  but  little  taste 
for  promiscuous  company,  he  did  not  mix  much  with 
college  society,  and  probably  made  fewer  college  inti- 
macies than  most  young  men  who  receive  their  education 
within  the  walls  of  a  University.  He  was  scrupulously 
attentive  to  his  duties  and  exercises  ;  a  faithful  but  not 
a  very  hard  student,  and  maintained  a  respectable  rank 
in  his  class.  He  did  not  appear  to  aim  at  a  very  high 
standing  as  a  scholar,  and  this  principally,  as  I  appre- 


30  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

hend,  because  he  had  no  conception  that  his  abilities 
were  such  as  to  place  it  within  his  reach.  I  doubt  if  it 
ever  entered  his  mind,  that,  even  if  he  were  disposed, 
he  could  have  contended  successfully  for  the  higher 
honors  of  his  class ;  he  did  not  dream  that  such  success 
was  in  his  power,  even  had  it  been  an  object  of  desire. 
Had  he  believed  it  to  be  so,  he  would  probably  have 
both  desired  and  sought  it,  and  thus  have  been  a  much 
harder  student.  But  he  acquired  knowledge  easily. 
A  moderate  amount  of  labor  enabled  him  to  appear  as 
well  in  his  recitations  as  he  wished,  as  well  as  he  sup- 
posed it  possible  that  he  could,  and  he  consequently 
devoted  much  leisure  time  to  reading  and  to  studies  of 
a  general  character. 

At  this  period  of  life,  indeed,  eminence,  high  repu- 
tation, or  great  distinction  in  any  way,  does  not  seem 
to  have  entered  into  his  anticipations.  No  one  probably, 
who  knew  him  at  this  time,  would  have  supposed  him 
capable  of  a  career  so  successful  as  that  which  awaited 
him;  no  one  would  have  been  more  surprised  than 
himself,  could  it  have  been  predicted.  This  it  was 
strikingly  characteristic  of  him  through  life ;  the  success 
he  attained  was  always  greater  than  he  expected,  or 
even  dared  to  hope;  it  came  upon  him  by  surprise. 
I  do  not  mean  that  he  was  without  ambition ;  that  he 
did  not  seek  and  value  reputation ;  that  he  did  not  enjoy 
applause.  The  love  of  praise,  of  popularity,  was  in  him 
a  strong  natural  feeling,  as  he  was  fully  sensible,  and 
one  against  whose  undue  influence  he  felt  it  his  duty 
carefully  to  guard.  But  he  did  not  very  highly  estimate 
his  power  of  doing  that  which  would  enable  him  to 
gratify  this  feeling.  His  ambition  was  not  up  to  his 
ability.     He  would  have  been  perfectly  satisfied  and 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  31 

contented  with  a  much  lower  rank,  both  in  College  and 
in  life,  than  that  to  which  he  attained. 

His  rank  as  a  scholar  will  be  indicated  in  some  degree 
to  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  principles  on  which 
they  were  at  that  time  distributed,  by  the  College  honors 
which  he  received.  In  his  Junior  year,  he  took  part  in 
a  Latin  Dialogue,  at  one  of  the  usual  public  exhibitions. 
Tn  his  Senior  year  lie  gave  a  Latin  Oration  at  exhibition, 
and  at  the  Commencement  in  1S12,  when  he  graduated, 
he  delivered  a  poem,  the  subject  of  which  was  "  The 
Pursuit  of  Fame."'  This  was  received  with  a  good  deal 
of  applause.  He  was  a  member  of  all  the  College  Soci- 
eties, for  admission  into  which  scholarship  was  a  neces- 
sary condition :  and  in  their  literary  exercises,  as  he  did 
also  in  his  College  themes,  he  frequently  indulged  him- 
self in  his  propensity  for  writing  in  verse.  He  delivered 
a  poem  before  one  of  these  societies,  and  the  annual 
discourse  before  an  association  which  existed  among 
the  undergraduates  for  mutual  religious  improvement. 

Beside  thus  stating  my  own  recollections  of  my 
brother's  College  life  and  character,  I  have  the  satisfac- 
tion of  being  able  to  introduce  the  following  extracts  of 
letters  to  me  from  two  of  his  classmates,  Charles  G. 
Loring  and  Peleg  Sprague.  relating  to  the  same  subject. 
Mr.  Loring  writes  thus  : 

"  We  were  not,  properly  speaking,  intimate  in  College  ;  for 
we  were  both  diligent  students,  and  he  resided,  as  you  know, 
at  home,  and  very  seldom  mingled  in  our  amusements,  except- 
ing as  a  member  of  societies  devoted  to  mental  improvement. 
I  felt  towards  him,  however,  very  early,  a  profound  respect, 
and  a  constantly  growing  personal  attachment.  His  excellent 
sense,  perfect  purity  and  benevolence,  always  shining  clearly 
through  his  quiet,  retiring,  nnd  somewhat  exclusive,  though 


32  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,  JR. 

never  unkind,  manners,  produced  in  me  a  gratifying  conscious- 
ness of  elevation  in  companionship  with  him,  and  led  me  to 
seek  his  society  as  a  privilege. 

"  His  recitations,  though  not  brilliant,  were  always  accurate 
and  entirely  unambitious.  I  do  not  remember  ever  being 
impressed  with  the  thought  that  he  aimed  to  excel  others ; 
while  his  industry  and  devotion  to  study,  and  punctual  attend- 
ance upon  all  College  exercises,  showed  forcibly  his  high 
sense  of  duty  to  himself,  and  the  privileges  with  which  we 
were  favored ;  and,  although  they  procured  for  him  rank, 
never  seemed  directed  to  that  end. 

"  I  cannot  recall  any  one  whose  career  at  Cambridge  was 
so  perfectly  typical  of  his  future  life.  The  same  gravity, 
gentleness,  firmness,  and  kindness  of  demeanor;  the  same 
elevated  sense  of  duty ;  the  same  earnest,  unpretending  piety ; 
the  same  entire  self-devotion,  which  so  eminently  distinguished 
him  among  the  best  and  greatest  of  men  in  his  mature  years, 
were  characteristic  of  him  there." 

Judge  Sprague  says : 

"  While  at  College,  as  he  was  the  son  of  a  professor,  and 
did  not  live  within  the  walls,  his  classmates  had  not  the  grati- 
fication of  seeing  him  so  much  as  they  wished.  He  rarely 
joined  in  their  amusements,  never  in  those  of  the  gayer  kind. 
His  conduct  and  demeanor  were  always  irreproachable,  and 
such  even  then,  as  would  have  adorned  the  profession  for 
which  he  was  destined ;  and  yet  so  free  from  austerity  and 
reserve,  so  full  of  kindness  and  sympathy,  that  he  was  esteemed 
and  beloved  by  all.  I  verily  believe,  that  not  one  of  his  class- 
mates, at  any  time  during  his  whole  college  life,  felt  towards 
him  other  than  emotions  of  friendship. " 

In  the  winter  of  1810 — 11,  he  availed  himself  of  the 
permission,  which  was  frequently  given  to  undergrad- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  33 

uates,  to  teach  a  school  in  the  country  during  the  winter 
months.  The  vacation  then  extended  to  seven  weeks, 
occupying  the  greater  part  of  the  cold  season ;  and  sev- 
eral weeks  of  the  term  were  allowed  by  the  Government, 
in  order  to  make  out  the  amount  of  time  required  for  an 
engagement  of  this  sort.  This  privilege  was  of  great 
advantage  to  the  poorer  class  of  students,  in  enabling 
them  to  procure  the  means  of  education ;  but  it  was 
resorted  to  in  my  brother's  case,  as  much  for  the  benefit 
which  might  be  derived  from  this  kind  of  discipline. 
A  school  was  engaged  for  him  in  the  town  of  Beverly, 
and  thither  he  went  in  the  latter  part  of  December. 
The  following  letter  will  convey  the  best  idea  of  his 
experience  in  this  new  situation, — one  certainly  of  no 
small  responsibility,  and  of  considerable  trial  to  a  lad  of 
his  age ;  for  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  at  this  time  he 
wanted  four  months  of  having  completed  his  seventeenth 
year.  This  letter,  besides  its  connexion  with  him,  may 
serve  to  illustrate  some  of  the  customs  and  the  state  of 
the  schools  at  that  time. 

to  his  father 

"  Beverly,  Dec.  28,  1810. 
"  My  dear  Father, 

"  I  believe  that  I  promised  to  write  to  you  as  soon  as  I 
arrived  here,  but  I  have  been  so  engaged  that  I  have  not  had 
time.  Whether  this  letter  will  reach  you  before  Tuesday  or 
not,  I  cannot  tell ;  but  I  hope  you  will  receive  it  to-morrow. 
That  I  am  very  much  engaged  you  can  easily  conceive,  when 
I  tell  you  that  I  have  in  my  school  sixty-five  children,  men  and 
women  together.  There  are  four  boys  older  and  larger  than 
myself,  and,  from  what  I  can  hear,  there  are  yet  to  be  more 
of  the  same  genus.     Girls  there  are  many,  as  much  as  lo,  17, 


34  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

or  IS  years  of  age ;  but  it  luckily  happens  that  they  are  dis- 
posed to  be  peaceable  and  orderly.  Only  six  study  Arithme- 
tic ; — three  of  these  are  just  entering  on  multiplication, — two 
are  in  reduction, — and  one  in  the  rule  of  three.  Almost  all 
the  girls  (of  whom  are  about  one  third  of  the  wThole)  study 
English  Grammar,  and  only  one  boy  ;  and  one  intends  study- 
ing Latin  next  week.  And  now,  having  heard  of  my  situa- 
tion here,  you  will  probably  be  glad  to  know  how  I  came 
into  it.  And  I  assure  you  that  I  have  a  very  amusing 
account  to  give  you  of  my  journey  to  this  place.  To  begin, 
then : — I  was  so  afraid  of  being  left  by  the  stage,  that  I  left 
Uncle  Clarke's  with  scarce  half  a  dinner,  and,  to  complete  this 
grievous  misfortune,  I  had  to  lounge  about  the  market  for  half 
an  hour  before  the  vehicle  was  ready.  This  therefore  I  entered 
with  eight  more ;  and  a  shabbier  set  than  we,  I  believe,  never 
entered  stage-coach.  Thus  we  travelled  to  a  tavern  about  half 
way  to  Salem  (but  in  what  town  I  know  not) ;  and  till  we 
got  into  a  bar-room  there,  where  one  man  was  pretty  talkative 
about  flip,  and  the  stage-driver  about  his  pay, — till  then,  I  say, 
I  heard  not  a  word  spoken,  save  and  except  that  one  sailor 
cursed  the  driver,  and  another  asked  what  was  the  matter. 

"  After  this  we  had  company  a  little  more  talkative,  and  so 
arrived  at  Salem  just  about  candle-light.  The  driver  refused 
to  carry  me  to  Beverly ;  so  I  left  my  trunk  at  the  tavern,  to 
be  carried  over  in  the  Newburyport  baggage-wagon.  I  did 
not  like  the  plan  very  well,  but  I  did  not  see  as  I  could  do 
better ;  but,  when  I  got  to  Mr.  Eliot's,  I  hired  his  horse  and 
his  neighbor's  chaise,  and  so  went  and  brought  it  home, — 
sixty-six  cents,  and  twenty-five  cents  toll !  But  to  return  from 
this  digression  ; — I  went  as  far  as  Beverly  Bridge  in  the  stage, 
and  walked  from  there.  With  much  difficulty  I  found  the 
house  of  Andrew  Eliot,  who  was  to  board  the  school-master. 
There  awaited  my  arrival  two  of  the  school  committee,  who 
gave  me  much  sage  advice,  and  administered  many  admirable 
admonitions,  and  instructions,  and  directions  ;  particularly  with 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  35 

regard  to  Mr.  Pilsbury,  who  kept  this  school  last  year,  whom 
they  affirmed  to  be  the  very  best  master  they  ever  knew. 
*  He  had  a  most  curious  way  of  punishing  his  scholars ;  he 
used  to  talk  to  'em,  and  fairly  shame  'em  out  on't — and  he  used 
to  pinch  their  ears,  and  everybody  but  two  was  very  well 
satisfied  with  him,'  &c.  In  such  conversation,  we  passed 
about  half  an  hour,  and  then  I  took  leave,  and  went  over  to 
Salem,  as  aforesaid.  But  I  must  not  forget  that  they  inquired 
about  my  recommendations,  whether  I  had  any  from  my 
minister,  &c,  and  said  it  would  be  best  to  get  one,  as  it  was 
usual.  So  the  next  morning,  down  went  I  to  Mr.  Abbot's,  to 
be  examined,  and,  after  reading,  ciphering,  &c,  I  was  permit- 
ted to  become  school-master.  Indeed,  Mr.  Abbot  said  that 
Mr.  Hedge's  letter  to  him,  and  my  College  standing,  were 
recommendations  sufficient.  But  it  was  thought  best  that  I 
should  be  examined,  in  order  to  satisfy  the  District.  I  drank 
tea  at  Mr.  Abbot's,  and  thence  went  with  him  to  his  evening 
lecture,  where  he  spoke  extempore,  for  about  an  hour,  on  the 
excellence  of  the  Christian  religion. 

"  I  keep  seven  hours  a  day ; — from  half-past  eight  to  twelve, 
and  from  one  to  half-past  five.  I  shall  soon  keep  eight  hours, 
as  the  committee  say  it  is  usual.  There  have  been  con- 
siderable objections  made  to  my  taking  Saturdays,  in  order  to 
make  out  the  time ;  and  I  have  agreed  partly,  till  I  hear  from 
you,  not  to  keep  them. 

"  Tell  Lucy  and  Mary,  that  they  have  taught  me  to  be  so 
polite  to  ladies,  that  I  have  got  laughed  at  for  it  in  my  school ; 
for  wrhen  one  of  these  young  ladies,  my  pupils,  the  other  day 
came  to  me  with  her  pen,  I  gallantly  rose  from  my  chair,  and 
made  my  very  best  bow, — at  which  the  boys  laughed.  How- 
ever, I  have  learned  here  to  think  a  little  better  of  girls  than  I 
used  to ;  for,  after  they  have  been  out,  the  boys  never  come  till 
they  are  called,  but  the  girls  always  return  of  their  own  accord 
before  their  time  is  out. 

11 1  believe  that  I  am  very  well  situated  here.     My  living, 


36  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

as  far  as  I  can  see,  will  be  pretty  much  in  the  same  style  that 
it  was  at  Andover,  but  vastly  more  clean.  -Mr.  Eliot  is  a 
sociable,  jolly,  facetious  fellow,  and  altogether  very  pleasant. 
I  live  about  a  mile  from  the  meeting-house,  and  the  post- 
office  where  I  have  got  to  carry  this  letter  to-night  (it  is  now 
half-past  seven) ;  and  so,  if  this  be  not  writing  fit  for  a  school- 
master, or  a  letter  fit  for  one  that  has  read  Cowper,  the  time, 
circumstances,  &c,  of  the  case  will  plead  in  excuse.  I  wish 
that  I  had  time  and  paper  now  to  relate  many  conversations 
which  I  have  heard  here,  but  I  must  leave  it  for  some  future 
occasion.  I  am  well,  and  hope  the  same  is  the  case  with  all 
at  home.  Having  nothing  better  to  send,  I  send  this  hope,  and 
my  love  to  all, — and  therewith  subscribe  myself 

H.  Ware,  Jr. 

"  N.  B.  1  feel  myself  more  like  a  man,  in  company  and  in 
school,  than  I  expected.  I  really  believe  that  there  is  some 
magic  in  the  mighty  word  Si?*,  which  has  a  potent  influence 
in  these  things.  But,  by  the  way,  I  must  say  a  word  in 
blame  of  my  school-house.  Such  a  little,  dirty  hole  for 
seventy  children,  I  never  saw ;  we  are  as  crowded  as  can  be, 
— no  comfort  at  all.  Some  of  the  boys  have  to  stand  out  on 
the  floor  while  the  others  write." 

During  this  residence  in  Beverly,  he  boarded  in  a 
family  entertaining  opinions  of  religious  doctrine  differ- 
ing entirely  from  those  in  which  he  had  been  educated, 
and  which  were  held  by  the  friends  with  whom  he  had 
always  been  associated.  He  was  consequently  in  the 
way  of  hearing  a  good  deal  of  conversation  and  discus- 
sion on  the  subject  of  religion,  of  a  different  character 
from  that  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed.  His  mind 
was  thus  freshly  excited  concerning  it,  and  he  became 
much  interested  and  somewhat  anxious  and  disturbed. 
He  wrote  a  letter  to  his  father,  in  the  course  of  the  win- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  37 

ter.  exhibiting  this  state  of  mind,  and  asking  his  opin- 
ion and  advice  upon  several  points,  with  regard  to 
which  he  felt  doubts  and  difficulties.  This  letter, 
which  would  have  been  of  interest  in  showing  the  pro- 
gress of  his  mind  on  religious  subjects,  has  unfortunately 
been  lost ;  the  answer  to  it,  however,  which  I  insert, 
serves  very  well  to  indicate  what  were  the  topics  to 
which  it  related. 

from  his  father. 

"Jan.  17,  1811. 

"  I  received  yours  of  Tuesday,  this  evening.  I  had  begun 
to  apprehend  that  you  had  neglected  writing,  because  you 
were  unable  to  give  so  good  an  account  of  yourself  as  you 
would  wish.  I  am  in  some  measure  relieved  from  that  appre- 
hension, though  I  am  sorry  to  have  you  think  you  shall  not 
give  satisfaction.  Allow  no  such  fear  to  discourage  you  from 
the  very  best  exertions  of  which  you  are  capable.  Let  the 
largeness  of  your  school  stimulate  your  ambition,  and  call  forth 
energies  adequate  to  the  occasion.  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have 
you  keep  an  evening  school,  if  you  find  yourself  adequate  to 
the  task.  Any  exertion,  not  beyond  your  strength,  will  be 
useful  to  you. 

"  In  your  account  of  the  religious  state  of  the  place,  and 
prevalent  opinions,  I  think  it  possible  you  may  not  have 
acquired  a  perfectly  accurate  knowledge  of  it.  The  con- 
sequences, which  we  think  irresistibly  follow  from  men's 
opinions,  are  often  such  as  they  totally  disavow.  At  any  rate, 
the  religious  opinions  of  serious  and  conscientious  persons  are 
entitled  to  respect,  even  from  him  who  believes  them  to  be 
most  absurd  and  contradictory.  It  may  be  very  useful  to  you 
to  hear  conversation  on  religious  subjects,  and  to  converse 
yourself,  even  on  controversial  subjects.  Two  things  you  will 
learn  by  it,  if  you  exercise  that  good  sense,  which  I  hope  you 
4 


38  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE.    JR. 

do ; — one  is,  to  bear  contradiction  with  patience,  and  treat 
persons  with  deference  who  hold  opinions  to  which  you  can- 
not subscribe ;  the  other,  not  to  think  it  necessary  to  give  up 
an  opinion,  and  immediately  think  it  wrong,  because  you  don't 
find  yourself  able  to  defend  it.  Many  truths  are  liable  to 
insuperable  objections, — I  mean  objections,  which  no  finite 
mind  is  capable  of  removing  in  a  perfectly  satisfactory  manner. 
Such,  I  will  venture  to  say,  are  the  doctrines  to  which  you 
allude  in  your  letter,  which  side  of  the  argument  soever  you 
take  up.  Yet  one  side  or  the  other,  notwithstanding  such 
objections,  must  contain  the  truth. 

"  I  hope  you  will  learn  to  hear  whatever  is  said  with 
candor ; — to  treat  all  persons  and  opinions  on  religious  subjects 
with  great  delicacy, — and  be  deliberate,  cautious,  and  con- 
scientious in  forming  your  own. 

14 1  know  not  how  I  shall  send  your  flute ;  still  I  may 
possibly  either  send  or  bring  it  to  you.  I  do  not  however 
see  what  use  you  will  make  of  it.  You  say  nothing  of  society 
— acquaintance — visiting.  I  trust  therefore  that  your  time  is 
not  much  taken  up  in  that  way ;  and  am  not  sorry  that  it  is 
not." 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  experience  of  this  winter 
was  of  much  value  to  him,  partly  by  giving  him  confi- 
dence in  himself,  preparing  him  for  a  similar  occupa- 
tion after  leaving  college,  and  partly  by  renewing,  and 
fixing  more  deeply  in  his  mind,  his  interest  in  religion, 
as  a  system  of  doctrines,  as  well  as  a  rule  of  life.  His 
intercourse,  it  should  be  remarked,  was  not  exclusively 
with  those  of  different  religious  opinions,  beyond  the 
family  in  which  he  boarded;  he  attended,  in  part  at 
least,  the  preaching  of  the  Rev.  Abiel  Abbot,  and  formed 
some  personal  acquaintance  with  him. 


CHAPTER    III. 

BECOMES  ASSISTANT  IN    THE  ACADEMY  AT  EXETER,  N.  H. — HIS  CHOICE 
OF  A  PROFESSION CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  HIS  FATHER JOURNAL. 

1812-13.     -ET.  18-19. 

At  the  time  of  his  leaving  College,  in  August,  1812, 
Henry  was  four  months  past  his  eighteenth  year.  He 
immediately  engaged  himself  as  an  assistant  in  the 
Academy  at  Exeter.  This  institution,  which  has  always 
held  so  high  a  rank  among  preparatory  schools,  was 
then  under  the  care  of  that  very  distinguished  instructor, 
Dr.  Benjamin  Abbot.  It  was  with  no  little  solicitude, 
that  he  undertook  a  task  so  responsible  in  itself,  and  to 
him  quite  formidable,  when  he  considered  his  youth,  his 
very  youthful  appearance,  and  the  great  reputation  of 
the  school  and  its  head-master.  The  strong  feeling  of 
diffidence,  which  he  very  naturally  experienced,  with 
regard  to  his  success,  did  not  interfere  with  those  exer- 
tions which  were  necessary  to  secure  it ;  and  there  is 
reason  to  believe  that  he  soon  manifested  a  competency 
for  the  office,  which  secured  the  respect  of  the  students, 
and  the  confidence  of  the  Principal.  In  a  letter  to  his 
wife,  written  since  his  death,  Dr.  Abbot  says  : 

"  It  gave  me  great  pleasure  to  receive  a  note  with  your 
signature  attached  to  it.  It  revived  the  recollection  of  a  past 
happy  period  of  my  life,  when  associated  with  your  beloved 


40  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,  JR. 

husband  in  the  instruction  of  youth.  I  well  remember  my 
impressions,  when  he  first  made  his  appearance  in  Exeter,  and 
my  fears,  from  his  youthful  appearance  and  inexperience  in 
teaching  and  government,  that  he  might  be  found  inadequate 
to  his  station.  These  fears,  however,  were  soon  dissipated. 
The  sweetness  of  his  disposition,  his  open  frankness  of  man- 
ner, and  acknowledged  scholarship,  soon  gained  him  the  love 
and  confidence  of  his  pupils,  the  respect  and  affection  of  his 
brother  instructors.  His  two  years'  residence  in  this  place  left 
an  impression  on  all  who  had  the  happiness  to  know  him,  and 
is  still  fondly  cherished  in  the  recollections  of  all  who  survive 
him." 

Of  the  time  spent  in  Exeter,  he  used  always  to  speak 
with  the  most  unalloyed  satisfaction.  He  frequently 
reverted  to  it  in  after  life,  and  seldom  without  some  ex- 
pression of  pleasure.  All  his  recollections  of,  and  asso- 
ciations with,  the  place,  the  people,  and  his  residence 
there,  were  of  the  most  happy  kind.  He  was  then 
thrown  for  the  first  time,  for  any  considerable  period,  on 
himself  and  his  own  resources.  He  found  himself  at 
once  in  the  midst  of  an  agreeable  and  cultivated  society; 
among  persons,  to  whom  he  could  give,  and  from  whom 
he  could  receive  pleasure.  Before  this  he  had  mixed 
but  little,  and  always  with  some  reluctance,  in  general 
company.  He  was,  constitutionally  and  hereditarily, 
shy  and  bashful.  The  effort  to  go  among  people, 
especially  those  older  than  himself,  was  almost  painful. 
He  had  consequently  associated  but  little  with  persons 
out  of  the  circle  of  his  immediate  relatives  ;  for  even  at 
College,  as  has  been  already  said,  he  was  far  from 
mingling  in  the  society  of  his  classmates.  On  first  going 
to  Exeter,  therefore,  he  felt  but  little  confidence  in  his 
power  of  rendering  himself  acceptable,  and  hardly  sup- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  41 

posed  it  possible  that  he  should  be  expected  to  meet,  on 
terms  of  equality,  the  kind  of  society  into  which  he 
foimd  himself  immediately  and  most  cordially  invited. 
"  I  well  recollect,"  says  Dr.  Abbot,  in  the  letter  just 
quoted,  "  the  extreme  diffidence,  or  rather,  I  should  say, 
humble  opinion  of  himself,  so  uncommon  in  young  men 
fresh  from  the  University,  which  made  it  difficult  to 
persuade  him  to  accept  invitations  to  dine,  or  mix  with 
the  more  elderly  and  learned  of  our  society."  This 
reluctance,  however,  was  not  of  long  duration.  The 
very  familiar  and  unceremonious  habits  of  the  place  ; 
the  kindness  with  which  he  was  welcomed :  the  pleas- 
ure which  he  received  and  which  he  presently  found 
himself  capable  of  imparting,  speedily  removed  all  con- 
straint, and  he  was  soon  established  as  one  of  a  delidit- 
ful  circle,  with  whom  his  intercourse  was  constant,  and 
of  a  very  improving  character.  In  no  part  of  his  life, 
probably,  did  he  ever  enjoy  society  so  much,  for  its 
own  sake,  as  at  Exeter.  Some  of  his  warmest  personal 
attachments  were  formed  there,  and  he  made  many 
friends,  including  the  venerable  Principal,  by  whom  he 
was  always  held  in  strong  regard,  and  whom  he  never 
ceased  to  love  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

But  his  residence  there  was  not  merely  a  fortunate 
and  happy  one  as  it  aiforded  him  an  opportunity  for  the 
gratification  and  the  improvement  to  be  derived  from 
intercourse  with  cultivated  society;  it  contributed  in 
various  ways  to  fit  him  for  his  subsequent  duties  and 
responsibilities.  It  afforded  a  kind  of  discipline,  which 
his  previous  retired  habits  and  home  education,  as  well 
as  his  temperament,  rendered  absolutely  necessary  in 
order  to  prepare  him  for  his  entrance  into  the  world. 
In  other  respects,  the  years  spent  at  Exeter  were  a 
4* 


42  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAHE,    1ft- 

very  important  portion  of  his  life,  in  their  bearing  on 
those  which  followed,  It  was  while  here,  that  he 
finally  fixed  on  his  profession,  and  began  the  study  of 
it.  We  find  also,  that  here  he  chiefly  formed  those 
habits  and  modes  of  study,  matured  in  his  mind  those 
views  of  the  nature,  objects,  and  duties  of  the  ministry, 
and  began  that  collection  and  preparation  of  materials 
for  future  use,  which  aided  him  so  much  in  his  subse- 
quent progress,  and  contributed  so  largely  to  his  ulti- 
mate success.  I  doubt  if  there  were  any  equal  portion 
of  his  life,  in  which  so  distinct  a  progress  and  develop- 
ment of  character  were  to  be  noticed.  This  would 
have  been  true  to  some  extent,  perhaps,  of  the  same 
years,  wherever  spent;  but  much  of  their  favorable 
influence  seems  to  have  been  connected  with  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  he  was  placed. 

His  first  letter,  giving  an  account  of  his  arrival,  intro- 
duction to  his  duties,  and  first  acquaintance  with  the 
society  of  the  place,  is  wanting.  The  following  is  a 
part  of  the  answer  to  it. 

FROM    HIS    FATHER. 

"  Cambridge,  Sept.  14,  1S12. 

"  The  first  thing  that  strikes  me  in  your 

letter,  is  your  handwriting.  I  advise  you  to  adopt  a  larger  let- 
ter, and  to  persevere  in  the  use  of  it,  at  least  as  large  as  that 
in  which  I  am  now  writing.  You  will  hereafter  enjoy  the 
benefit  of  it. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  are  so  well  pleased  with  your  lodg- 
ings ;  you  can  hardly  be  too  solicitous  to  make  yourself  agree- 
able in  return,  by  habits  of  sociability,  civil  attentions,  and  a 
constant  regard  to  those  personal  and  domestic  habits  which 
form  so  considerable  a  part  of  the  character  of  a  young  man. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  43 

But  you  are  in  no  small  danger,  on  the  other  hand,  of  being 
drawn  away  too  much  by  the  love  of  pleasant  society.  I  hope 
you  will  be  on  your  guard,  and  early  prescribe  to  yourself 
such  rules  and  limits,  as  will  consist  with  your  duty,  your 
improvement,  and  the  expectations  of  the  place. 

"  Your  first  care  must  be  to  secure  the  character  of  com- 
petent ability  and  unfailing  fidelity,  as  an  instructor  in  the 
Academy;  your  next,  to  gain  all  that  you  can,  consistently 
with  this,  for  your  own  improvement.  Though  I  feel  an  entire 
confidence  in  your  present  correctaess  of  mind,  it  is  impossible 
for  me  not  to  feel  some  solicitude  upon  your  first  going  into  the 
world  to  act  for  yourself  at  so  early  a  period.  It  is  for  you  to 
show  whether  my  confidence  or  my  solicitude  have  the  best 
foundation. 

"  I  wish  you  would  write  to  me  soon,  and  largely,  respect- 
ing every  circumstance  in  your  situation.  I  wish  you  to  tell 
me  whether  you  have  fixed  on  a  profession ;  if  you  are  still 
not  fully  resolved,  let  me  know  the  state  of  your  mind,  its 
balancings,  and  what,  and  in  what  degree,  are  its  preponder- 
ances." 

to  his  father. 

"  Exeter,  Sept.  23,  1812. 
11  I  received  your  letter  last  evening ;  had  I  seen  it  sooner,  I 
should  have  written  very  differently  by  Folsom.  I  said  no- 
thing then  which  I  intended,  and  shall  be  able  to  say  but  little 
now ;  for  I  have  been  engaged  all  to-day  and  this  evening,  and 
must  send  early  to-morrow.  You  wish  to  know  of  my  situa- 
tion. I  can  hardly  describe  it  by  writing,  and  must  leave  it 
for  my  return.  I  am,  however,  perfectly  contented  and  pleased, 
am  treated  like  one  of  the  family,  and  consider  myself  as  entirely 
at  home,  and  a  pleasant  home  it  is.  I  have  formed  but  a  few 
acquaintances ;  but  I  foresee  that  I  shall  have  a  good  deal  of  visit- 
ing to  do.  If  I  may  judge  from  what  I  have  seen,  it  will  be 
very  agreeable.     I  hope,  however,  that  there  will  be  no  reason 


44  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

to  complain  that  I  neglect  my  duty  for  company,  or  that  I  am 
not  faithful  to  the  extent  of  my  abilities,  though  they  should 
be  found  not  competent  to  the  task.  The  expression  of  your 
confidence  in  my  present  intentions  gave  me  great  pleasure, 
and  it  shall  be  my  constant  study  to  prove  it  well-grounded, 
and  to  dispel  all  solicitude  with  respect  to  my  adherence  to  the 
habits  in  which  I  have  been  educated.  I  hope  my  connexion 
with  Dr.  Abbot  and  the  other  gentlemen  in  this  place,  will 
keep  me  right.  Though  he  is  a  very  pleasant  and  easy  man, 
my  respect  for  him  is  so  avfful  that  I  cannot  learn  to  consider 
him  as  a  companion.  I  believe  there  is  no  boy  in  school  feels 
worse  to  be  detected  by  him  in  a  fault  than  I  do,  when  I  think 
he  is  listening  to  my  recitations.  The  duties  of  the  Academy 
are  less  arduous  than  I  expected.  The  language  department 
is  not  so  full  now  as  usual ;  the  difficulties  of  the  times  occa- 
sion that  more  should  study  English. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  what  is  going  on  in  the  world  ;  I  should 
be  glad  if  in  your  letters  you  would  let  me  know  what  the 
great  and  the  good  are  doing." 

from  his  father. 

«•  Sept.  25,  1812. 
11  You  wish  to  know  what  the  wise  ancl  the  good  are  doing. 
If  I  were  disposed  to  be  gloomy  and  cynical,  I  should  say  they 
were  sitting  still,  and  waiting  to  see  how  the  foolish  and  bad 
will  come  out.  It  is  not,  however,  exactly  so,  but  it  is  too 
nearly.  Folly  and  wickedness  are  more  active,  and  wisdom 
and  virtue  less  so,  than  would  be  for  the  peace,  improvement, 
and  happiness  of  the  world.  In  the  two  great  interests  that 
engage  the  chief  attention  of  men,  and  produce  most  of  the 
excitement  that  we  either  rejoice  or  mourn  to  see, — religion  and 
politics, — the  greatest  zeal,  activity  and  influence  are  not  always 
to  be  considered  as  certain  marks  of  the  greatest  wisdom,  or 
the  purest  sincerity  ;  it  is  well  if  they  happen  not  in  company 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  45 

with  both  intellectual  and  moral  qualities  of  an  opposite  char- 
acter." 

to  his  father. 

"  Oct.  3,  1812. 

"With  respect  to  a  profession,  &c,  it  is  a 

long  business,  and  one  which  I  cannot  enter  upon  at  present. 
Such  thoughts  as  shall  at  any  time  occur  to  me,  I  shall  trans- 
mit to  you,  hoping  to  receive  your  advice  and  direction.  The 
first  thing  I  believe  to  be  done,  is  to  consider  which  will  make 
me  the  best  and  the  happiest  man,  and  in  which  I  can  do  most 
good.  This  is  as  far  as  I  have  got  yet;  and,  though  I  have 
always  been  of  opinion  that  a  clergyman's  life  is  the  most 
respectable  and  happy,  and  most  useful,  or  at  least  capable  of 
being  the  most  useful  to  society ;  yet  a  thousand  difficulties  and 
dangers  present  themselves  at  the  very  outset,  which  have 
deterred  me  from  choosing  it.  Until  these  are  in  some  degree 
removed,  as  I  hope  they  may  be  by  your  assistance,  I  shall  be 
totally  undecided ;  and  at  present  I  see  but  little  prospect  of  my 
beginning  any  study  so  early  as  next  year,  and  perhaps  it  is 
best  I  should  not.  The  more  I  think  on  the  subject,  the  more 
unsettled  I  become.  However,  there  is  no  knowing  what  a 
day  will  bring  forth,  and  I  believe  that  present  anxiety  will  do 
but  little  good.', 

The  following  passage  is  extracted  from  a  letter 
written  at  this  time  to  a  brother  who  had  just  entered 
college.  A  young  man  of  eighteen  will  not  often  be 
allowed  to  assume  the  office  of  a  Mentor,  nor  be  listened 
to  with  respect ;  in  this  case,  however,  the  undeviating 
propriety  of  his  own  conduct  and  his  strict  adherence 
to  duty,  as  it  gave  him  some  right  to  advise,  estab- 
lished also  a  claim  to  the  confidence  of  those  whom  he 
addressed. 


46  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

to  his  brother  william. 

"  Oct.  24,  1812. 
"  But  I  wish  to  speak  seriously  with  you,  for  you  are  enter- 
ing on  four  years,  that  may  be  happy  or  miserable,  that  will 
bring  you  good  or  evil,  as  you  choose.  And,  as  I  have  lately 
passed  over  the  ground  before  you,  and  know  its  dangerous 
places,  and  how  it  should  be  travelled,  I  am  particularly  anxious 
that  you  should  start  right,  so  as  to  get  through  well.  For, 
though  I  know  you  will  scarcely  believe  it,  a  great  deal,  indeed 
almost  all,  depends  upon  the  first  setting  out.  Only  begin 
rightly.  Of  a  bad  beginning  it  is  hard  to  correct  the  evils,  and 
the  greatest  danger  of  commencing  ill  lies  in  the  company  you 
keep.  I  wished  to  have  written  to  you  earlier,  to  urge  you 
earnestly  to  form  no  intimacies,  till  you  have  found  out  who 
are  your  likeliest  fellows.  For  if  you  make  acquaintances 
early,  you  do  it  without  a  knowledge  of  their  characters,  and  it 
may  be  a  permanent  injury  to  you ;  for  you  are  more  likely  to 
fall  into  the  company  of  the  bad  than  of  the  good,  because  the 
latter  are  cautious  and  reserved,  while  the  former  drag  into 
their  train  all  they  can  seize.  Late  as  this  warning  comes  to 
you,  I  hope  it  will  not  be  too  late  for  you  to  profit  by  it.  The 
path  of  your  duty  is  plain,  and  I  know  you  are  inclined  to  pur- 
sue it.  Let  your  resolution  not  flag,  but  walk  straight  for- 
wards, and  justify  the  hopes  of  your  father  and  friends.  There 
will  be  more  pleasure  in  hearing  them  say  '  Well  done,' 
when  you  have  finished,  than  in  all  the  scenes  of  irregular 
pleasure  which  college  affords. " 

The  following  extract  relates  to  "  The  General  Repos- 
itory and  Review."  a  quarterly  periodical  publication, 
projected  and  edited  by  Professor  Norton.  This  was  a 
work  of  high  character,  and  took  the  lead  in  the  theo- 
logical discussions  of  the  day.  There  were  too  few  at 
that  period,  who  could  suitably  appreciate  such  a  work, 
and  it  continued  in  existence  but  a  few  years. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  47 

TO    HIS    FATHER. 

"  Nov.  23,  1812. 
"  I  received  your  subscription-paper  on  Saturday.  I  have 
showed  it  to  Dr.  Abbot,  but  he  gives  me  slight  hopes  of  obtain- 
ing subscribers  here.  For,  though  there  are  a  number  of  lite- 
rary men  here,  their  thoughts  and  business  are  very  distant 
from  anything  of  this  kind.  Show  them  a  political  magazine, 
and  they  might  patronize  it ;  or  a  light  work  of  polite  literature, 
which  might  serve  for  recreation  after  the  bustle  of  a  busy 
day ;  but  they  feel  no  interest  in  theological  controversy,  or  lite- 
rary discussions,  which  must  be  studied  in  order  to  be  relished. 
Of  the  wrork  itself,  he  spoke  in  high  terms,  and  said,  very 
clearly,  such  a  thing  ought  to  be  supported,  but  its  tone  is  a 
grade  too  high  for  our  country  yet ;  it  ought  to  have  more 
entertainment  and  less  abstruseness ;  and,  till  this  is  the  case, 
till  its  plan  is  very  essentially  altered,  it  cannot  flourish.  Hr. 
Hildreth  said,  it  wras  too  heretical;  make  a  '  Panoplist'  of  it; 
give  long,  and  wondrous,  and  dolorous  accounts  of  conversions, 
revivals,  &;c,  and  it  would  do  well  enough.  I  cannot  deter- 
mine wTith  certainty  as  yet,  but  from  what  I  know  of  the  place, 
and  from  Dr.  A.'s  conversation,  little  or  no  increase  of  sub- 
scription can  be  expected  from  this  quarter.  I  am  very  sorry  to 
find  this  is  the  case ;  for,  the  more  I  see  of  the  book,  the 
more  I  admire  it." 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  following  letter  of  his  father, 
written  in  March,  1813,  that  notwithstanding  the  ex- 
pressions of  doubt  as  to  his  choice  of  a  profession,  con- 
tained in  the  letter  of  October  3d,  the  prevailing  bent  of 
his  mind  was  to  the  study  of  divinity.  Indeed,  I  do  not 
imagine,  that  he  had  really  so  considerable  a  hesitancy 
upon  the  subject  as  he  himself  supposed.  What  his 
predominant  inclination  had  always  been,  1  am  confident 
from  my  own  recollection :  still,  when  it  became  abso- 


48  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE,    JR. 

lutely  necessary  to  decide  the  point,  he  felt  doubts 
and  misgivings  which  he  had  never  experienced  when 
looking  at  the  subject  from  a  distance.  The  office  of  a 
minister  he  had  always  regarded  with  a  species  of  awe, 
as  one  of  peculiar  sacredness,  and  as  requiring  a  special 
sanctity  in  those  who  assumed  it.  It  was  natural, 
therefore,  that  he  should  hesitate  for  a  moment,  when 
called  on  to  determine,  and  should  distrust  somewhat 
his  own  fitness  for  the  task.  No  one,  indeed,  who  enters 
this  profession  without  something  of  these  feelings,  can 
be  regarded  as  fit  to  enter  it.  In  his  case,  whatever  may 
have  been  the  state  of  his  mind  while  he  had  the  subject 
under  consideration,  no  one  who  had  known  him  could 
have  entertained  the  least  doubt  how  the  deliberation 
would  end.  The  letter  itself  sufficiently  indicates  the 
topics  of  that  which  suggested  it.  It  was  written  soon 
after  he  had  spent  one  of  his  vacations  at  home. 

from  his  father. 

"  March  4,  1813. 

"  I  expected  to  have  received  one  or  two  letters  from  you 
before  this  time ;  but  I  presume  your  reason  for  not  having 
written  is  that  which  prevented  Father  Wibird  from  getting 
up  before  sunrise, — mere  respect,  a  sense  of  decorum, — you 
had  too  much  respect  for  your  father  to  write  before  him. 
That  restraint  will  be  taken  off  now,  and  you  need  no  longer 
be  prevented  by  any  scruples  of  delicacy,  and  I  hope  you  will 
not  by  want  of  leisure  or  want  of  inclination. 

"  Your  letter  to  Lucy  was  calculated  to  give  me  some  alarm. 
I  consider  there  is  always  danger  that  persons  naturally  bash- 
ful and  taciturn,  when  they  once  break  through  the  restraints 
of  nature  and  constitution,  will  also  break  over  those  of  deco- 
rum and  modesty,  and  go  into  the  opposite  extreme  of  impu- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  49 

dence.  The  very  effort  it  costs  to  overcome  the  reluctance  of 
nature  has  a  tendency  to  hurry  you  to  an  extreme ;  as  the 
violent  push  required  to  open  a  slicking  door  endangers  your 
tumbling  on  your  nose  when  it  opens.  I  trust,  however,  you 
will  have  care  enough  to  keep  your  centre  of  gravity,  and  good 
sense  enough  to  apply  to  moral  and  practical  purposes  that  law 
in  physics,  by  which  a  body  is  disposed  to  move  with  an 
irregular  and  dangerous  force,  which  has  had  a  resisting  power 
suddenly  removed. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  find  so  little  time  for  study.  I  should 
exceedingly  regret  your  own  improvement  being  retarded  by 
your  business,  and  the  time  greatly  protracted  of  your  qualify- 
ing yourself  for  your  profession.  From  your  observations  the 
evening  before  you  left  Cambridge,  I  inferred  that  your 
tendency  was  prevalently  toward  the  study  of  divinity.  If  that 
be  the  case,  you  will  of  course  bend  your  reading  in  that  direc- 
tion. As  you  teach  the  Testament,  you  will  give  it  a  more 
critical  view  than  you  would  otherwise  do.  I  would  advise 
you  also  to  write  constantly  on  subjects  connected  with  your 
studies,  and  on  which  you  are  reading.  Remember  Lord 
Bacon  on  reading,  writing,  conversation, — '  the  full,  exact,  and 
ready  man.'  I  should  think,  that,  in  the  intervals  of  school, 
books  connected  wiih  biblical  and  ecclesiastical  history,  being 
lighter  than  strictly  theological  books,  might  be  preferable. 
And  there  is,  perhaps,  no  better  introduction  to  the  study  of 
divinity,  than  a  thorough  acquaintance  with  the  history  of  the 
Jewish  and  Christian  churches." 

I  may  add,  that  a  journal  which  he  kept,  though 
somewhat  irregularly,  at  this  period  of  his  residence  in 
Exeter,  bears  marks  of  the  prevailing  tendency  of  his 
mind.  His  thoughts,  his  mode  of  viewing  every  subject 
of  which  he  speaks,  and  of  remarking  on  the  books 
which  he  is  reading,  all  show  clearly  where  his  heart 
5 


50  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

was.  In  this  journal  are  several  analyses  of  sermons, 
which  he  heard,  and  remarks  upon  the  style  and  man- 
ner of  the  preachers :  especially  a  full  account  of  the 
preaching  of  Dr.  Parker  of  Portsmouth,  showing  a  very 
just  appreciation  of  the  peculiar  excellences  of  that 
eminent  divine,  and  corresponding  in  a  remarkable 
manner  with  the  estimate  he  formed  of  him  at  a  more 
mature  period  of  life,  when  he  became  his  biographer. 
I  quote  from  this  journal,  as  an  evidence  of  this  ten- 
dency of  his  thoughts,  and  also  as  an  example  of  his 
mode  of  thinking  at  this  period,  the  following  passage, 
which  forms  the  conclusion  of  some  remarks  suggested 
by  the  reading  of  "  Solomon's  Song." 

"  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  that  same  language  held  to  the 
incomprehensible  Jehovah,  which  is  used  in  expressing  a 
worldly  passion  to  the  beauty  of  a  day ;  it  is  shocking  to  me. 
A  person  of  an  ardent  disposition  may  thus  imagine  to  be  the 
expressions  of  a  fervent  piety,  what  are  only  the  overflowings 
of  the  natural  temperament.  Indeed,  I  object  altogether  to  the 
publishing  of  very  ardent  and  fervent  devotional  exercises. 
They  come  into  the  hands  of  simple  people,  whose  mind  is 
naturally  less  warm  and  enthusiastic,  but  who  intend  and 
endeavor  to  live  a  Christian  life ;  but,  when  they  see  this 
extravagance  of  feeling  in  others  and  compare  it  with  their  own 
more  quiet  and  placid  state,  they  begin  to  think  that  all  is  not 
right  in  themselves,  and  they  are  afflicted  and  in  despair  at 
what  is  perhaps  no  more  than  the  result  of  the  natural  constitu- 
tion of  their  minds.  Or  it  may  lead  others,  who  are  quite  as 
warm,  and  do  not  regulate  their  minds  by  reason,  to  create  in 
themselves  a  factitious  spirit  of  devotion,  and  to  construe  enthu- 
siasm of  feeling  into  real  piety.  Such,  too,  will  be  the  natural 
effect  of  flaming  accounts  of  conversions  and  revivals  upon  weak 
but  warm  spirits ;   they  will  readily  fancy  in  themselves  what 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  51 

they  admire  in  others  and  wish  to  experience  ;  and  thus  we  shall 
have  a  sickly,  high-wrought  state  of  feeling  supplant  the  milder 
but  more  steady  flame  of  pure  and  rational  religion  ; — rational, 
not  in  the  sense  of  those  who  would  exalt  reason  as  infallible, 
and  set  up  its  decisions  in  opposition  to  those  of  revelation,  but 
only  so  far  as  it  guides  and  directs  our  faith  and  practice,  going 
hand  in  hand  with  the  heart,  the  faithful  servant  of  God." 

The  following  is  Henry's  answer  to  the  letter  from 
his  father  last  quoted.  It  should  be  stated  in  explana- 
tion of  the  concluding  remark  in  it,  that  he  was  at  this 
time  teaching  the  Greek  Testament  in  the  course  of  his 
duty  as  an  instructor,  and  took  the  opportunity  to  give 
to  it  a  more  critical  attention  than  was  required  in  the 
mere  preparation  for  his  exercises,  using  the  Cambridge 
reprint  of  Griesbach's  text. 

to  his  father. 

"  March  14,  1813. 
14  How  far  the  course  I  desire  would  be  practicable,  I  know 
not;  as  far  as  it  would.  I  am  determined  to  pursue  it.  At 
present,  my  chief  concern  is  to  become  a  religious  man ;  to 
regulate  my  conduct,  and  form  my  habits,  so  that  I  may  con- 
scientiously exercise  the  office  of  a  minister.  And  I  find  it  no 
easy  matter  to  become  what  I  wish ;  the  more  I  look  into  my- 
self, the  more  evil  propensities  and  secret  faults  I  find  which 
need  correction ;  and  then,  if  I  make  a  virtuous  resolution  in 
the  morning,  it  is  ten  to  one  that  I  break  it  before  night.  Till 
I  can  make  myself  the  character  I  think  I  ought  to  be,  I  shall 
not  think  of  coming  forward  to  teach  others.  I  believe  I  might 
learn  to  my  satisfaction  the  speculative  and  theoretical  parts  of 
religion.  I  might  learn  to  criticize  and  comment,  and  give 
good  advice,  &c,  very  well ;  but  unless  I  felt  and  lived  according 
to  what  I  taught,  constantly  and  directly,  it  is  plain  I  should 
only  be  enhancing  my  own  guilt  and  danger.     I  find  I  have 


52  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

been  very  prolix,  and  I  am  afraid  tedious ;  but  I  wish  to  write 
to  you  as  I  feel  and  think,  for  I  wish  your  remarks  and 
advice. 

I  have  found  two  small  errors  in  Griesbach,  which  perhaps 
you  have  not ; — 2  Peter  i.  3,  and  in  James  ii.  14,  tyfa  is  written 
with  an  aspirate  egyu  ;  which  last,  however,  is  rather  of  curious 
than  real  importance.  With  respect  to  yeir^uuru,  I  doubted 
whether  it  were  not  a  various  reading,  and  therefore  did  not 
note  it  in  my  margin. 

Whilst  at  home,  during  his  next  vacation  in  May, 
the  question  of  his  profession  was  definitively  settled ;  he 
commenced  his  studies  in  earnest  and  with  more  system. 
His  correspondence  with  his  father  no^v  assumed  more 
distinctly  a  professional  character,  and  the  remainder 
of  his  residence  at  Exeter  will  require  little  more  than 
extracts  from  this  correspondence  and  from  his  journal, 
to  convey  a  pretty  just  idea  of  the  gradual  manner  in 
which  his  character  was  forming,  and  of  the  earnestness 
with  which  he  was  preparing  himself  for  the  great  work 
of  life. 

to  his  father. 

"  May  30,  1813. 
"  I  have  been  reading  a  few  sermons,  but  none,  indeed  none 
that  I  ever  read,  struck  me  so  much  as  Mr.  Channing's  at  the 
ordination  of  Mr.  Codman.  It  seems  to  me  powerful  and  im- 
pressive beyond  example.  It  must  be  a  treasure  to  young 
ministers,  and  ought  to  stop  effectually  the  cold  sermonizing 
of  your  rationalists,  who  maintain  the  strange  contradiction, 
of  religion  without  feeling.  If  such  a  thing  were  possible,  it 
would  be  scarcely  worth  having,  I  think.  It  seems  to  me  Mr. 
Channing  has  exactly  drawn  his  own  character,  as  far  as  I 
know  it.  There  are  the  same  traits  of  unaffectedness,  earnest- 
ness, and  solemnity  in  himself  and    in    the  portrait  he  has 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  53 

drawn.  Is  it  not  strange  that  I  should  have  heard  no  more  of 
this  sermon  ? 

"  I  find  myself  greatly  perplexed  and  doubtful  in  respect  to 
many  of  the  controverted  points  of  doctrine,  i.  e.  of  some  of 
them  I  think  scarcely  at  all,  but  concerning  some  I  am 
anxious;  they  haunt  me  perpetually,  and,  while  many  think 
them  of  such  vast  moment,  I  am  sometimes  afraid  it  is  wrong 
to  keep  myself  wavering.  But  yet,  is  it  best  to  dabble  in  con- 
troversy at  present,  or  let  light  come  in  by  degrees  as  I  pursue 
the  study  of  the  Scriptures  ?  With  respect  to  one  thing,  how- 
ever, the  Lord's  Supper,  I  think  I  ought  to  be  immediately 
determined.  I  had  by  some  means,  perhaps  naturally  enough, 
been  led  to  look  on  this  institution  with  a  superstitious  awe, 
bordering  on  horror.  I  thought  it  was  a  mystery  which  it 
would  be  criminal  to  look  at  familiarly,  and  to  partake  of  the 
bread  and  wine  required  a  degree  of  sanctity  and  an  indescri- 
bable, mysterious  something,  which  only  a  few  favored  spirits, 
not  '  touched  but  rapt,'  could  attain  to.  These  notions,  with  a 
long  train  of  appendages,  I  got  at  Beverly,  I  believe.  Bur, 
from  my  own  study  of  the  Bible,  I  have  been  led  to  think  them 
erroneous,  and  that  nothing  should  prevent  me,  but  that  I  am 
in  duty  bound  to  become  a  partaker.  Will  you  write  me  your 
opinion,  and  advise  me  what  treatises  to  read,  that  will  give 
me  most  correct  views  of  the  subject,  its  nature,  design,  and 
history,  and  the  obligations  of  those  who  partake  it?  Are 
Clarke's  Sermons  on  this  subject  to  be  trusted  ? 

"  In  this  letter  I  have  talked  very  freely,  probably  like  a 
novice ;  but  I  have  two  objects  in  view,  (a  little  distinct 
from  absolute  want  of  information,)  which  I  am  unwilling  to 
give  up.  First,  to  draw  from  you  all  the  assistance  I  can ; 
for  what  I  obtain  in  this  way,  I  shall  prize  more  than  if  I 
obtained  it  otherwise.  Second,  to  habituate  myself  to  writ- 
ing seriously,  that  you  may  see  my  manner,  and  tell  me 
wherein  it  is  faulty  and  how  I  may  correct  it.  Not  that  you 
are  to  consider  my  letters  as  elaborate  essavs,  for  I  never 
5* 


54  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

write  more  than  one  copy ;  but  yet  the  general  character  of 
my  style  will  be  visible,  and  may  perhaps  afford  fair  subject 
of  criticism.  I  know  that  I  am  asking  what  will  give  you 
much  trouble ;  but  I  have  been  so  accustomed  to  apply  to  you, 
and  have  found  you  so  ready  always  to  assist  me,  that  I  have 
learned  to  believe  you  consider  it  rather  a  pleasure  than  a 
task." 

from  his  father. 

"  June  5,  1813. 

M  I  will  take  up  your  letter  by  paragraphs ;  so  that,  if  you 
complain  of  it  as  desultory,  I  may  be  able  to  throw  back  the 
charge  of  it  upon  yourself. 

"  I  am  glad,  then,  that  you  have  read  Mr.  Charming's  Ser- 
mon. Its  impression  is  such  as  I  should  have  expected,  for  I 
think  it  one  of  the  happiest  efforts  of  pulpit  eloquence.  But  I 
do  not  know  exactly  what  you  mean  by  the  cold  rationalists, 
who  maintain  religion  without  feeling.  Never,  perhaps,  was  a 
charge  more  unjustly  applied  than  that  usually  is.  In  no  ser- 
monizers  will  you  find  higher  degrees  of  true  warmth,  more 
glowing  zeal  for  truth  and  virtue,  or  more  ardent  piety  and 
benevolence  breathed  forth,  (free,  to  be  sure,  from  the  wildfire 
of  fanaticism,  and  the  consuming  flames  of  bigotry  and  secta- 
rianism,) than  in  those  whom  modern  cant  stigmatizes  as  ration- 
alists. The  gentleman  with  whose  sermon  you  are  so  justly 
enraptured,  is  a  striking  example.  The  thing  itself  which  you 
mean  to  censure,  I  most  heartily  join  with  you  in  censuring; 
but  you  will  find  that  coldness  is  not  exclusively  the  attribute 
of  the  rational.  You  will  find  that  the  irrational  may  also  be 
cold  and  heartless. 

"  With  respect  to  points  of  controversy  with  which  you  are 
haunted,  it  is  very  natural  and  very  proper  that  you  should 
wish,  and  seek,  to  have  your  doubts  and  perplexities  removed. 
But  you  have  very  properly  expressed  the  precise  course 
which  you  now  ought  to  take ;  '  let  light  come  in  by  degrees, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR.  55 

as  you  pursue  the  study  of  the  Scriptures.'  A  sudden  flash 
may  give  you  what  you  think  to  be  a  distinct  view  of  objects 
for  the  moment,  but  the  darkness  will  be  the  deeper  and  more 
perceptible  as  soon  as  it  is  over.  The  only  light  that  will  be 
a  safe  guide  to  you,  will  be  the  slow,  gradual,  but  sure  open- 
ing of  the  day. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  turned  your  thoughts  to  the 
Lord's  Supper.  I  have  been  hoping,  that  both  you  and  your 
sisters  would  propose  the  subject  to  me  before  this  time.  I 
wish  you  would  write  to  them  upon  it.  I  am  gratified,  too, 
that  by  recurring  to  the  best  guide  on  the  subject, — the  Bible, 
— the  mystery  in  which  you  saw  the  ordinance  enveloped,  is 
dissipated.  Nothing  surely  can  be  more  astonishing,  or  humi- 
liating, than  that  an  institution  so  perfectly  plain  and  simple, 
should  have  been  susceptible  of  such  corruption  and  perver- 
sion. 

"  The  best  treatises  you  can  read  on  the  subject,  are  the 
simple  account  of  its  institution  by  the  Evengelists,  and  Paul's 
account  of  it  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians. 

"  Dr.  Clarke's  (I  suppose  you  mean  Dr.  John,  of  Boston,) 
'  History'  and  '  Design  of  the  Lord's  Supper,'  I  think  are  per- 
fectly correct,  and  ought  to  be  highly  satisfactory  to  the 
inquirer. 

"  It  is  a  subject  on  which  I  think  very  little  light  is  needed, 
and  long  treatises  are  tedious  and  useless ;  what  is  wanted ,  is, 
not  more  true,  but  less  false  light. 

"  If,  when  we  go  to  the  Bible,  we  leave  behind  us  our  pre- 
judices, false  views,  the  '  mystery  we  got  at  Beverly,' — and 
take  our  notions  from  the  simple  account  we  there  find,  we 
shall  be  terrified  with  no  spectres,  and  need  no  light  on  the 
subject.  Nor  will  the  ordinance  lose  any  of  its  interest  by 
becoming  more  intelligible,  and  less  mysterious  and  awful. 

"  You  are  right  in  feeling  a  confidence  in  my  readiness  to 
give  you  any  aid  in  my  power,  and  in  believing  that  I  shall  be 
very  far  from  thinking  it  a  trouble.     I  am  glad  to  have  you 


56  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE?    JR. 

write  to  me  on  serious  subjects,  and  it  gives  me  pleasure  that 
you  treat  them  seriously.  Except  the  affectation  of  unnatural 
and  disproportioned  seriousness  in  trifles,  nothing  can  be  more 
offensive  than  levity  on  subjects  really  serious  and  important. 
I  trust  you  will  carefully  avoid,  alike  from  feeling  and  from 
principle,  both  the  one  and  the  other. 

to  his  father. 

"  June  13,  1813. 
"  In  speaking  of  rationalists,  I  did  not  mean  to  say  there 
were  any  to  whom  the  censure  would  apply  in  its  full  extent, 
much  less  to  give  all  the  name,  to  whom  I  suppose  many 
would  apply  it.  But  I  think  there  is  a  tendency  to  that  ex- 
treme, especially  in  persons  just  entering  the  ministry.  They 
are  so  afraid  of  the  opposite  enthusiasm  and  superstition,  that, 
in  their  attempts  to  avoid  it,  they  fall  into  an  error  equally 
great.  While  they  assert  the  rights  of  reason,  is  there  not 
danger  that  they  will  urge  them  too  far,  and  refuse  altogether 
the  exercise  of  feeling  ?  that  they  will  regard  religion  too  much 
as  a  study,  something  to  be  thought  upon  and  reasoned  about, 
and  in  which  all  feeling  should  be  repressed  as  leading  to 
deception  and  error  ?  From  trying  revelation  at  the  bar  of 
reason,  is  there  not  danger  of  coming  at  last  to  make  it  sole 
arbiter,  and  exalting  it  above  the  former  ?  And  may  not  a 
man  become  at  length  so  completely  rational,  as  to  hesitate 
upon  any  emotion  of  gratitude  and  love,  and  to  inquire,  '  Do 
I  not  feel  too  much  ?'  and  instead  of  asking  himself,  '  Have  1 
sufficient  humility  and  penitence  ? '  to  ask,  '  Have  I  not  more 
than  I  need  ?  Would  not  less  answer  the  purpose  ? '  I  would 
not  have  men  give  up  their  reason  and  become  fanatics ;  but 
neither  do  I  wish  them,  on  the  other  hand,  to  give  up  feeling. 
I  would  let  both  have  their  influence,  and  each  act  as  a  check  on 
the  other ;  for  I  think  it  is  in  the  proper  mixture  and  regulation 
of  these  that  the  perfection  and  beauty  of  religion  consists.     I 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR.  57 

do  not  think  our  opinions  here  at  all  different ;  but  I  fancy  I 
can  see  a  danger  where  you  see  none.  And  the  reason  is,  I 
am  at  a  greater  distance  from  the  centre,  and  hear  many 
observations  which  never  reach  you. 

"  Since  writing  to  you  last,  I  have  read  Campbell's  '  Lec- 
tures on  Systematic  Theology  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.'  I  do 
not  remember  ever  to  have  heard  of  the  book  before.  I  was 
delighted  with  it;  it  has  perfectly  removed  all  haste  to  be 
satisfied  on  controversial  points,  and  has  completely  convinced 
me  in  regard  to  the  right  way  of  study,  though  in  truth  I  had 
few  doubts  before.  Indeed,  it  would  require  all  the  sound 
judgment  and  discretion  of  Campbell  himself  to  follow  his  plan 
perfectly,  so  as  to  reap  all  the  advantages  of  which  it  is  capa- 
ble ;  but  let  every  one  do  it  in  his  measure,  and  there  can  be 
no  question  of  its  benefits. 

"  I  have  dipped  a  little  into  ecclesiastical  history,  and  find  it 
exactly  like  all  others,  but  a  melancholy  account  of  the  weak- 
ness, folly  and  contentions  of  mankind,  whose  blessings  seem 
only  to  be  exceeded  by  the  abuse  of  them,  and  who  make 
themselves  miserable  in  proportion  to  their  means  of  happi- 
ness. Christianity  never  was  purer  than  at  present,  since  the 
days  of  its  first  professors.  I  have  been  taught  to  believe  that 
the  pride  of  human  reason  was  opposed  to  its  progress,  and 
could  not  receive  its  doctrines  without  corrupting  them.  But 
ignorance  is  as  proud  as  learning,  quite  as  unyielding  in  sup- 
port of  its  opinions,  and  as  great  a  corrupter  of  the  truth." 

In  his  journal,  he  enters  into  the  following  more  ex- 
tended course  of  remark,  suggested  by  the  perusal  of 
the  work  of  Campbell  alluded  to  in  the  last  letter.  It 
indicates  the  existence  of  a  state  of  opinion  and  feeling 
on  the  subject  of  religion,  which  was  strongly  charac- 
teristic of  him  through  life. 

"  Campbell's  '  Lectures  on  Systematic  Theology,  and  Pul- 


58  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE.   JR. 

pit  eloquence,'  I  have  accidentally  met  with ;  and  though  I  do 
not  recollect  having  heard  of  them  before,  I  have  borrowed 
them,  trusting  I  should  find  nothing  of  this  author  but  what  is 
valuable.  Nor  have  I  been  disappointed.  I  have  been  highly- 
interested  and  instructed  by  their  perusal,  particularly  those 
in  which  he  speaks  of  the  manner  in  which  young  men  should 
study,  and  the  course  they  ought  to  pursue.  Upon  which  points 
I  was  not  before  perfectly  satisfied,  but  am  now.  He  seems  to 
have  marked  out  with  great  precision  the  province  of  reason, 
and  to  have  defined  with  much  accuracy  its  limitations  ;  he  nei- 
ther allows  it  too  much  scope,  nor  too  little ;  he  does  not  exalt 
it  above  revelation,  but  asserts  its  freedom  to  declare  for  itself 
what  revelation  is ;  he  sets  it  above  the  control  of  men,  but  still 
requires  its  submission  to  God.  Upon  this  point  I  have  been 
not  a  little  jealous.  I  have  been  afraid  lest  men  were  urging 
the  point  unwarrantably  far,  freeing  reason  from  all  restraint 
and  maintaining  its  all-sufficiency.  Now  it  would  require  all 
the  sound  judgment  and  discrimination  of  Campbell  himself,  to 
follow  with  exactness  the  path  he  has  recommended,  and  there- 
fore only  few  can  arrive  at  the  degree  of  excellence  it  seems  to 
promise.  Still  it  is  apparent  that  if  all  would  follow  it  to  the 
utmost  of  their  abilities,  with  proper  seriousness,  humility, 
discretion  and  perseverance,  they  might  attain  much  nearer 
the  correct  standard  than  in  any  other  way.  But  the  misfor- 
tune is,  few  have  discretion  to  know  and  stop  at  the  right 
point;  the  ardor  of  youth  urges  everything  to  extremes;  and, 
if  freed  from  all  restraint  of  man,  they  are  apt  to  become  con- 
ceited and  cold  rationalists.  Such,  I  am  afraid,  is  the  ten- 
dency of  our  Cambridge  students ;  they  study  religion  too  much 
as  a  science,  too  much  as  a  business  of  mere  grammar  and 
lexicon;  they  seem  to  regard  it  as  a  subject  to  be  reasoned 
upon,  to  exercise  their  ingenuity;  and  appear  almost  to  forget 
that  it  is  something  to  be  felt ;  while  they  sharpen  the  wits 
and  inform  the  head,  they  are  not  careful  to  polish  the  heart, 
and  rectify  the  affections.     I  hope  that  I  say  too  much,  that  I 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR.  59 

express  myself  too  strongly,  and  charity  obliges  me  to  think  I 
do.  Yet,  I  have  such  a  jealousy  and  dread  of  this  thing,  I 
feel  so  strongly  the  danger  of  this  tendency,  and  believe  I  have 
seen  so  plain  indications  of  what  I  have  mentioned,  that  I  can- 
not persuade  myself  I  am  altogether  wrong." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

SECOND      YEAR      AT      EXETER^-CONTINUATION      OF      CORRESPONDENCE 

WITH    HIS    FATHER PROPOSES    TO    RELINQUISH    HIS    OFFICE FIRST 

APPEARANCE   IN    THE   PULPIT. 

1813-14.     iET.  19-20. 

A  long  and  severe  illness  in  the  family  at  Cambridge 
put  a  stop  at  this  period  to  all  correspondence,  except 
that  which  related  to  it;  and  the  following  extracts 
from  letters  to  one  of  his  brothers  contain  the  only 
accounts  of  his  occupation  in  the  interval. 

"  July  29,  1813. 
"  I  believe  I  have  read  and  studied  a  good  deal  this  sum- 
mer ;  but,  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  I  do  not  feel  so  much  more 
learned,  as  I  thought  I  should.  What  a  misfortune  it  is  that 
the  knowledge  which  appears  so  vast  at  a  distance,  should  so 
dwindle  away  as  you  approach  it,  and  shrink  to  so  small  a 
thing  as  you  make  it  your  own.  You  think,  if  you  could 
stand  on  that  pinnacle  of  the  mountain,  you  should  feel  vastly 
above  your  present  height,  and  be  almost  contented  with  your 
elevation ;  but,  alas  !  when  you  get  there,  you  do  not  perceive 
that  you  are  raised,  so  much  still  remains  above  and  so  little 
below  you." 

"  Oct.  9,  1S13. 

"  And  now  allow  me  to  speak  of  myself.     I  am  studying 

pretty  diligently,  but  with  very  little  satisfaction  ;  for  I  find  my 

memory  grows  weaker  every  day,  and  I  cannot  call  to  mind, 

at  the  end  of  the  week,  the  contents  of  the  book  I  read  at  the 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,     JR.  61 

beginning.  This,  however,  maybe  partly  fancy;  I  hope  it  is, 
though  it  is  certainly  partly  true.  Let  me  say  at  least,  (though 
1  suppose  I  have  said  it  before,)  the  more  I  read,  the  more  I 
discover  my  own  ignorance.  The  letting  knowledge  into  the 
mind  is  like  carrying  a  candle  into  some  vast  unexplored  cav- 
ern ;  while  you  stand  at  the  entrance,  you  do  not  imagine  its 
depths  to  be  very  great,  but,  as  you  go  forward,  it  opens,  and 
expands  on  every  side,  seeming  to  increase  its  dimensions  as 
you  proceed,  and  you  are  astonished  at  every  step  to  find  your- 
self still  far  from  the  end.  And  the  resemblance  holds  in  yet 
another  respect ;  as  the  candle  leaves  not  light  in  the  spots  it 
has  passed  over,  but  darkness  closes  upon  them,  so  the  traces 
of  knowledge  are  erased,  and  leave  no  monuments  to  show 
that  they  have  been,  except,  as  it  were,  a  few  dim  candles, 
stuck  here  and  there  upon  the  sides  of  the  cave." 

His  original  engagement  at  Exeter  expired  with  the 
close  of  the  academic  year  in  August,  but  the  mutual 
satisfaction  which  existed  between  him  and  the  govern- 
ment of  the  institution,  rendered  his  continuance  in  his 
office  desirable  to  both  parties ;  and  he  accordingly 
decided  to  remain  in  it  for  another  year.  This  year, 
like  the  last,  furnishes  little  matter  of  record,  and  our 
account  of  it  must  be  confined  chiefly  to  selections  from 
his  correspondence. 

TO   HIS   FATHER. 

"Oct.  16,  1S13. 
"  But  a  truce  with  trifling,  which  perhaps  is  not  very  intel- 
ligible. I  have  read  the  third  volume  of  Michaelis, — not  being 
able  to  get  the  first,  and  not  being  willing  to  read  the  second. 
I  opened  the  book  with  great  expectations,  and  was  disap- 
pointed. I  was  interested  in  what  he  has  written  concerning 
a  Harmony  ;  but,  for  the  rest,  I  expected  something  of  more 
importance  and  interest  than  the  discussion  of  dates,  and  the 
6 


02  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

balancing  of  probabilities.  I  was  disappointed  with  Lardner 
in  the  same  way  ;  and  I  must  freely  confess,  that  I  find  the 
reading  of  this  kind  of  investigation  a  perfect  task.  It  has 
already  occasioned  me  several  evenings  of  labor,  from  which 
I  have  only  learnt  how  ingeniously  trifling  great  men  may 
sometimes  be ;  how  diligently  and  artfully  they  will  toil  to 
maintain  the  certainty  of  a  point,  which,  common  sense  at  once 
shows,  must  always  remain  doubtful ;  how  they  will  twist  and 
turn,  and  even  run  counter  to  their  own  rules,  for  the  sake  of 
establishing  one  out  of  fifty  suppositions,  no  one  of  which  can 
bring  more  than  probability  in  its  support.  Beausobre  and 
L'Enfant  delighted  me  ;  there  seems  to  be  nothing  unimpor- 
tant, nothing  superfluous  or  unnecessary,  either  in  matter  or 
words  ;  and  everything  is  so  neat,  that  it  engages  the  atten- 
tion closely,  and  may  be  read  without  weariness.  I  have 
read  besides  Taylor's  '  Scheme,'  and  Allix,  from  both  which  I 
believe  I  have  learned  considerable.  Dr.  Prideaux  is  too  dif- 
fuse, and  tells  his  story  most  tediously.  I  have  spent  some 
time  in  composition,  and  have  had  one  or  two  fits,  more  or  less 
severe,  of  the  poetic  mania, — from  which,  however,  I  have 
since  recovered,  and  am  now  perfectly  well." 

FR03I    HIS    FATHER. 

"Oct.  20,  1S13. 

"  You  will  find  the  first  volume  of  Michaelis  more  interest- 
ing; but  you  must  not  expect  entertainment,  in  the  com- 
mon sense  of  the  word,  in  dry  criticism.  The  second  vol- 
ume, it  seems,  was  too  forbidding  for  you  to  look  into  ; — well, 
it  is  not  a  book  to  be  read,  but  consulted,  and  at  the  proper 
time  you  will  look  even  into  that  volume  with  no  small 
interest. 

"  Taylor  and  Allix  were  well  worth  your  reading.  Taylor 
must  also  be  studied  ;  but,  if  you  have  learnt  much  from  Allix, 
you  have  probably  something  to  unlearn.  He  has  some  pleas- 
ant whims, — but  they  are  whims.     Some  of  his  opinions,  had 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  63 

he  lived  at  the  present  day,  he  would  not  have  held.  It  may 
be  said  of  him,  as  Robinson  said  of  Calvin ;  '  He  knew  not  all 
things,  and  had  he  lived  later,  would  have  been  as  ready  to 
receive  further  improvements,  as  he  was  to  adopt  those  of  the 
day  in  which  he  did  live.'  Prideaux  is  diffuse, — '  tedious,'  if 
you  please, — but  I  hardly  know  where  you  find  more  rare  and 
useful  information  within  the  same  compass,  than  in  his 
volumes. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  got  well  of  the  poetic  mania ;  and 
that  you  have  exercised  yourself  some  in  sober  prose.  By  all 
means  practise  yourself  in  writing.  If  you  reluct,  bring  your- 
self down  to  it  by  resolute  self-command. 

11  You  seem  not  to  have  heard  of  the  book^  which  engages 
all  the  attention  here  at  present ; — Mr.  English's  apology  for 
leaving  his  profession.  You  will  have  heard  of  it,  however, 
before  you  receive  this, — for  it  will  pass  like  wildfire  through 
the  country ;  and  like  that  too  it  will  flash,  and  crackle,  and 
sparkle,  and  dazzle,  and  amaze  for  a  moment,  and  then  go  out, 
or  be  put  out,  and  all  will  be  as  quiet  as  before  ;  and,  as  soon 
as  the  first  meteoric  effect  is  over,  our  eyes  will  recover  them- 
selves, and  we  shall  see  things  as  clearly,  and  in  the  same 
light,  as  if  nothing  had  taken  place. 

"  I  shall  be  anxious  to  hear  how  the  book  strikes  you  and 
others,  before  its  natural  history  is  made  known.  This  will 
occasion  you  as  much  surprise  at  least  as  the  book  itself." 

*  The  book  here  alluded  to  was,  "  The  Grounds  of  Christianity  examined  by 
comparing  the  New  Testament  with  the  Old  ;  by  George  B.  English."  Mr. 
English  had  studied  divinity  at  Cambridge,  and  had  been  for  a  short  time  a 
preacher.  The  materials,  and  much  of  the  detail  of  his  work,  were  drawn 
from  English  deistical  writers  of  the  last  century.  It  excited  much  attention 
for  a  time,  but  was  speedily  forgotten.  It  was  answered  briefly  by  Mr.  Cary, 
colleague  pastor  with  Dr.  Freeman,  of  the  Stone  Chapel,  and  more  fully  by 
Mr.  Everett,  at  that  time  minister  of  the  Church  in  Brattle  Square. 


64  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

to  his  father. 

"  Oct.  26,  1813. 

"  I  see  you  are  not  altogether  pleased  with  the  remarks  I 
made  on  my  reading.  They  were  too  short  to  be  perfectly  cor- 
rect, and  written  in  too  much  haste  to  give  exactly  the  impres- 
sion I  intended.  They  conveyed  the  idea  that  I  am  squeam- 
ish, difficult  in  my  reading,  and  so  fond  of  what  is  light  and 
entertaining,  as  to  be  disgusted  with  whatever  is  not  of  this 
character.  You  did  not  say  so  much,  but  I  fancied  I  could  see 
it  implied.  I  hope  it  is  not  exactly  true ;  certainly  I  am  not 
such  a  simpleton  as  to  expect  entertainment  merely  in  the 
study  I  am  pursuing  ;  I  know  that  much  diligent  and  painful 
application  must  be  my  lot.  When  I  say  that  Michaelis  is 
dry,  and  Prideaux  diffuse,  I  do  not  subtract  one  particle  from 
the  excellency  of  either,  nor  do  I  refuse  to  benefit  myself  by 
the  information  they  contain.  I  only  mention  one  of  the  most 
obvious  qualities  of  each  ;  and,  though  I  characterize  them  by 
their  faults  rather  than  by  their  merits,  it  is  so  common  a  fault 
with  young  critics,  that  I  hope  it  may  be  forgiven. 

"  I  saw  that  Allix  was  whimsical,  but  I  should  not  have  sup- 
posed that  his  book  contained  any  very  great  errors  to  be 
guarded  against.  I  thought  his  whims  very  innocent ;  but,  if 
they  contain  any  hidden  poison,  I  wish  it  might  be  pointed  out 
to  me. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  the  subject  of  the  typical 
application  of  the  Old  Testament.  It  seems  there  must  be 
such  a  thing,  but  I  do  not  understand  what  is  meant  by  it. 
Ought  we  to  say  that  the  tabernacle  was  built  in  order  to  pre- 
figure the  church,  or  is  it  only  referred  to  as  an  apt  compari- 
son ?  Was  Jonah  three  days  and  nights  in  the  whale's  belly 
because  the  Messiah  was  to  be  so  long  in  the  earth,  or  did 
Christ,  finding  the  fact  to  be  so,  only  allude  to  it  by  way  of 
similitude  ?  And  so  of  other  instances.  There  seems  to  be  a 
difficulty  of  the  same  kind  here,  as  in  the  question  of  the  divine 
prescience,  where  we  may  either  say,  This  event  happened 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  65 

because  God  foreknew  it,  or  God  foreknew  it  because  it  was  to 
happen.  If  we  admit  any  actions  in  the  Jewish  common- 
wealth to  be  pre-significant,  there  seems  to  be  no  reason  why 
all  should  not  be  ;  for  something  must  have  happened  under 
the  Christian  dispensation,  to  which  they  may  all  be  compared." 

FROM    HIS    FATHER. 

"  Nov.  5,  1813. 

"  I  must  have  expressed  myself  differently  from  what  I 
intended,  for  you  to  infer  any  dissatisfaction  with  your  remarks 
on  your  reading.  But  1  think  you  will  find  that  your  imagi- 
nation, or  perhaps  conscience,  had  more  to  do,  than  your  logic, 
in  drawing  the  inference." 

from  his  father. 

"  Jan.  21,  1814. 

11  It  is  a  pretty  important  part  of  your  preparation  for  your 
profession,  to  learn  to  write  sermons  easily  and  well.  I  will 
suggest  for  your  consideration,  and  recommend  to  your  trial, 
what  occurs  to  me  as  the  best  course  to  be  pursued  for  that 
purpose ;  at  least,  a  good  one.  I  would  begin  by  reading 
some  of  the  best  sermons,  and  making  abstracts  of  them  into  a 
book  kept  for  that  purpose.  This  I  would  do  once  or  twice  a 
week,  or  oftener,  with  great  care.  After  practising  this  for 
some  time,  and  on  several  authors,  I  would  choose  subjects, 
and  form  original  plans  of  discourses  upon  the  several  models 
of  those  of  which  I  had  taken  abstracts. 

"  By  comparing  abstracts  thus  faithfully  made  with  your 
own  original  schemes,  you  would  be  able  to  make  a  pretty  just 
estimate  of  their  value,  and  at  the  same  time  be  learning  the 
best  method  of  arranging  and  disposing  the  materials  of  a  ser- 
mon ;  what  formal  divisions  to  make,  and  what  implied  ones. 
Another  advantage  you  would  gain  also ;  that  of  diversifying 
your  manner  of  treating  subjects,  which  would  be  the  conse- 
quence of  practising  on  different  authors.  Besides,  these 
6* 


66  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,  JR. 

abstracts  would  always  be  valuable,  as  indexes  to  bring  to 
your  recollection  important  thoughts  and  views  on  interesting 
subjects ;  and  your  own  original  plans  would  be  a  valuable 
resource  to  repair  to  whenever  you  should  have  occasion  to 
complete  a  discourse  on  any  of  the  subjects  of  them. 

"  I  think  the  following  a  good  plan  of  an  abstract : 

"1.  Take  down  the  general  heads  of  the  discourse,  by 
marking  the  numbers  in  the  middle  of  the  page. 

"  2.  The  particular  heads,  by  marking  them  in  the  side 
margin. 

"  3.  As  many  particular  thoughts  under  each  as  you 
choose,  marking  and  numbering  them  half  an  inch  forward  in 
the  line,  or  against  the  head  to  which  they  belong,  inclosed  by 
a  brace. 

"  Specimen. 

"  Rom.  xiv.  29. — '  Let  us,  therefore,  follow  after  the  things 
which  make  for  peace/ 

I. 

"  Consider  what  is  due  from  us  to  the  church  in  order  to 
peace. 

"  1.  Every  member  of  the  church  is  bound  to  external 
communion  with  it. 

"  2.  Every  member  is  bound  to  join  in  communion  with 
the  church  established  where  he  lives,  if  the  terms  of  commu- 
nion be  lawful. 

"  3.  Every  member  is  obliged  to  submit  to  all  the  laws  and 
constitutions  of  the  church. 

(  "  1.    As  to  the  orderly  performance  of  worship. 
(  "  2.    As  to  the  maintaining  of  peace  and  unity. 

11  4.  Nothing  but  unlawful  terms  of  communion  can  justify 
a  separation. 

11  5.  Hence,  neither  unscriptural  impositions, — nor  errors, 
nor  corruptions  in  doctrine  or  practice,  while  suffered  only,  not 
imposed, — nor,  lastly,  the  pretence  of  better  edification,  can 
justify  separation. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  67 

II. 

"  Consider  what  is  due  from  us  to  particular  Christians  in 
order  to  peace. 

"1.  In  matters  of  opinion  to  give  every  man  leave  to  judge 
for  himself. 

"  2.    To  lay  aside  all  prejudice  in  the  search  after  truth. 

"  3.    Not  to  quarrel  about  words. 

"  4.  Not  to  charge  men  with  all  the  consequences  deducible 
from  their  opinions. 

"  5.    To  abstract  men's  persons  from  their  opinions. 

"  6.    That  we  vigorously  pursue  holiness. 

III. 
11  ^Motives  to  the  duty  laid  down. 
"  1.    From  the  nature  of  our  religion. 
"  2.    From  the  precepts  of  Scripture. 
"  3.    From  the  unreasonableness  of  our  differences. 

1.  To  virtue. 

2.  To  the  civil  state. 

3.  Christianity. 
.  4.  The  Protestant  religion. 

"  You  may  thus  have  in  a  very  small  compass,  to  be  seen 
at  a  single  glance,  what  will  bring  to  your  recollection  all  you 
wish  to  remember  of  a  sermon. 

"  I  have  given  this  example,  not  for  the  sentiment, — which, 
perhaps,  is  not  exactly  correct  in  every  respect,  though  it  is  in 
the  main, — but  because  I  had  the  analysis  ready  prepared,  and 
it  is  a  good  example  of  the  manner." 

The  occasion  of  the  last  letter,  or  what  suggested  it, 
does  not  appear.  The  plan  here  laid  down  was  that 
which  my  brother  adopted  and  essentially  followed 
through  life.  Probably  at  this  period  it  had  consider- 
able influence  in  directing  his  attention  to  the  advan- 
tages of  a  clear  method  in  the  writing  of  sermons,  and 


;  4.  From  their  ill  consequences. 


Ob  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

of  acquiring  a  habit  of  systematically  arranging  his 
thoughts  when  composing  them.  This  mode  of  pro- 
cedure became  also  his  usual  practice  with  regard  to 
everything  he  wrote.  He  seldom  began  a  composition 
of  any  importance  with  a  merely  general  idea  of  what  ■ 
he  meant  to  say,  and  of  the  order  in  which  he  was  to 
say  it.  He  endeavored  to  see  his  way  through  his 
subject  before  he  began  to  write,  and  sketched  out  very 
distinctly  the  larger  divisions,  and  frequently  the  sub- 
divisions, and  even  hints  of  particular  thoughts  and 
illustrations.  It  was  his  habit,  also,  whenever  his  atten- 
tion was  directed  to  a  subject  with  especial  interest,  to 
give  a  body  and  form  to  his  thoughts  by  laying  them 
out  in  an  orderly  manner,  as  if  he  were  about  to  write 
upon  it  at  length.  This  contributed,  unquestionably, 
very  much  to  give  clearness,  unity,  and  due  proportion 
of  parts  to  his  writings,  although  their  actual  divisions 
were  not  always  apparent ;  as  the  skeleton  gives  sta- 
bility and  symmetry  to  the  fabric  of  the  body,  but  does 
not  deform  it  by  thrusting  its  rough  and  ungainly  pro- 
jections above  the  surface. 

to  his  father. 

"Jan.  29,  1814. 

"  I  like  the  plan  you  sent  me  very  much,  and  I  think  I  shall 
undoubtedly  make  it  useful.  From  reading  a  sermon  of  Blair's 
to-day,  I  find,  however,  it  will  require  more  attention  and 
judgment  than  I  at  first  anticipated.  Although  he  has  regu- 
larly divided  his  discourse  into  its  parts,  a  much  more  complete 
and  careful  division  would  be  necessary  to  a  proper  sketch  of 
its  matter  and  design ;  and  it  is  a  business  of  no  small  nicety 
to  separate  the  leading  ideas,  and  state  them  in  language  so 
accurate  and  comprehensive  as  to  place  the  full  scope  in  a  clear 
view  before  you.     Much  doubtless  will  be  learnt  by  practice  ; 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  69 

and  I  hope  to  acquire  a  facility  of  analysis,  which  will  be  of 
no  small  service  to  me,  and  of  some  advantage  in  all  my 
reading  and  studies  ;  as  it  will  give  a  habit  of  reading  with  a 
particular  attention  to  the  main  design,  and  to  the  manner  in 
which  all  the  parts  are  made  subservient  to  it.  There  are 
many  sermons,  however,  and  probably  not  a  few  of  the  best, 
which  were  written  without  any  preconcerted  plan,  and  which 
it  would  be  next  to  impossible  to  divide  into  parts  as  you 
recommend.  They  are  rather  general  and  random,  though 
fine,  remarks  on  some  given  subject,  (like  Miss  H.  Moore's 
1  Practical  Piety,')  of  which,  as  they  seem  to  aim  at  no  given 
end,  so  we  cannot  discover  the  method  or  order,  or  discern  on 
what  principle  their  succession  depends.  But  you  would 
probably  say,  these  are  no  models  ;  and,  if  so,  I  need  not  ask 
what  I  intended,  how  I  should  manage  to  make  a  sketch  of 
them. 

11  You  make  the  'plan  of  a  discourse  of  more  consequence 
than  I  thought  was  done  by  any  one ;  and,  from  the  manner 
in  which  you  speak,  one  would  be  apt  to  imagine  that  the 
effect  of  a  sermon  depends  more  upon  the  arrangement  of  its 
parts,  than  the  care  and  force  with  which  those  parts  are 
written.  In  giving  rules  for  a  composition  which  is  required 
to  be  critically  perfect,  this  is  certainly  of  the  highest  impor- 
tance ;  but  is  a  sermon  such  ?  Does  not  more  of  its  effect 
depend  on  the  skill  with  which  any  topic  is  wrought  up,  on 
striking  passages,  than  on  the  general  connexion  of  the  whole  ? 
True,  even  allowing  this,  a  fine  passage  will  fail  of  its  effect, 
if  its  connexion  and  dependence  on  the  main  subject  be  not 
discernible.  But  I  mean,  if  we  lay  out  the  plan,  and  arrange 
the  ideas  so  thoroughly  before  we  write  the  parts,  shall  we  not 
leave  too  little  room  for  that  free  play  and  range  of  thought 
and  imagination,  which  give  a  glow  and  fascination  that  nothing 
else  can  give  ?  Do  we  not  cramp  and  confine  the  mind  too 
much  by  determining  its  course  and  limiting  its  excursions  so 
exactly  ?  and,  especially,  will  not  that  warmth  and  animation 


70  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

be  wanting,  which  we  always  find  greatest  when  we  write  on 
a  subject  fresh  and  newly  started  in  the  mind  ?  I  suppose, 
however,  that  here  you  would  give,  and  I  should  certainly 
take,  a  discretionary  power  of  making  alterations  in  the  given 
plan,  whenever,  in  the  warmth  of  composition,  the  course  of 
thought  took  an  unexpected  turn,  and  led  to  pertinent  dis- 
cussions which  had  not  been  foreseen.  Surely,  however  good 
the  original  plan,  a  part  of  it  should  be  sacrificed  in  such  a  case  ; 
and  the  sacrifice  would  be  abundantly  compensated  by  the 
chance  of  giving  something  new  and  interesting,  instead  of 
what  would  probably  be  written  in  a  dry  and  lifeless  manner, 
because  written  by  force,  and  by  opposing  the  natural  current 
of  ideas. 

"  Upon  looking  over  what  I  have  wTitten,  I  find  I  have  tried 
to  make  some  small  objection  to  your  scheme,  or  to  point  out 
some  imperfection  in  it,  but  without  success  ;  and,  if  I  have 
made  myself  intelligible,  I  believe  I  have  said  nothing  which 
you  will  not  immediately  admit,  or  indeed  which  is  not  a 
truism,  necessarily  implied  in  what  you  wrote." 

to  his  brother  john. 

"  Feb.  6,  1814. 
"  Dr.  Spring  preached  here  last  Sunday  ;  and,  as  I  may 
not  have  an  opportunity  again,  I  will  give  you  a  specimen  of 
his  discourse.  Perhaps,  said  he,  the  men  of  the  world  cannot 
conceive  of  a  parent's  feeling  perfectly  satisfied  (that  was 
the  expression)  at  the  sight  of  his  son  suspended  from  the 
gallows  as  a  punishment  for  his  crimes, — but  so  the  Christian 
is  ;  and  he  intimated,  that  he  was  not  only  so,  but  highly 
pleased.  He  added,  that  the  sight  of  sinners  in  torment  was 
unquestionably  to  be  one  source  of  the  happiness  of  good  men 
in  another  life.  This,  one  of  his  hearers  said,  was  making 
you  very  amiable  saints." 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JK.  71 

to  the  sa3ie. 

''Feb.  12,  1814. 

"  I  believe  I  wrote  you  a  shabby  letter  last  week  ;  I  hope 
never  to  do  so  again.  I  wish  I  could  have  received  an  answer 
before  now ;  but,  as  you  have  not  seen  fit  to  gratify  me,  I  sit 
down  to  scrawl  a  little  against  time  of  need.  One  never  feels 
so  much  the  need  of  a  friend's  letters,  or  so  much  feels  a  dispo- 
sition to  write  to  a  friend,  as  when  one  is  in  a  serious  mood, 
bordering  a  little  perhaps  on  the  melancholy, — or,  at  least, 
more  than  usually  troubled  with  thought  and  reflection.  I  have 
been  just  so  for  a  few  days,  and  have  longed  if  possible  to 
pour  myself  out  to  you.  I  have  been  thinking  of  my  profes- 
sion, musing  upon  its  vast  importance  and  tremendous  respon- 
sibility, and,  above  all,  its  difficulties,  which  seem  to  increase 
in  number  and  magnitude  the  nearer  I  survey  it.  Not  that  I 
have  ever  been  thoughtless  or  indifferent  to  these  things  ;  but 
you  know  there  are  seasons,  when  the  mind  acts  with  more 
than  wonted  vigor,  and  the  feelings  are  impressed  with  unusual 
force;  when  the  soul  seems  to  turn  back  into  itself,  and  become 
the  object  of  its  own  contemplations.  0  !  there  is  a  happiness 
in  such  periods,  which  no  wTords  can  express  ;  and,  though  a 
mind  that  should  be  constantly,  unceasingly  in  such  a  frame, 
would  unfit  the  man  for  the  active  exertions  which  life  requires, 
yet  such  a  season  occasionally  returning  is  invaluable  ;  the 
soul  seems  to  come  from  it  cleansed  and  purified,  with  all  its 
worldly  contamination  removed,  and  with  spirits  fresh  and 
wholesome. 

"  I  have  been  led  into  this  frame  by  reading  a  beautiful 
biography  of  Spencer,  an  English  clergyman  ;  the  effect  of 
which  was  probably  heightened  at  this  time  by  the  interest  I 
have  been  taking  in  Everett's  ordination.  It  would  be  impos- 
sible to  contemplate  two  such  men,  of  my  own  age,  entering 
the  ministry,  without  feeling  deeply  affected,  and  having  the 
mind  filled  with  an  awful  enthusiasm.     Spencer  was  one  of 


72  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

the  wonders  of  the  age.  From  his  very  childhood  he  had  had 
a  strong  attachment  for  the  ministry,  and  loved  nothing  so 
much  as  preachers  and  preaching.  He  preached  first  at  the 
age  of  seventeen,  and  was  settled  at  Liverpool  at  twenty;  he 
died  suddenly  about  three  months  after  his  ordination.  He 
was  an  enthusiast  of  the  first  and  purest  order.  His  whole 
soul,  all  his  powers  of  intellect  and  feeling,  were  devoted 
entirely  to  his  profession  ;  these  gave  him  a  wonderful  success 
and  unbounded  popularity ;  perhaps  not  even  Whitefield  was 
more  eagerly  sought  after.  He  preached  without  notes,  and 
his  discourses  were  usually  upwards  of  an  hour  in  length. 
But  you  must  get  the  book  and  read  for  yourself;  and,  though 
I  cannot  expect  you  to  feel  as  I  have  done,  I  think  your 
sober  judgment  must  concur  with  me  in  my  admiration, 
if  not  in  its  degree.  So  pure,  so  interesting  a  character,  of 
such  strict  propriety  and  correctness,  and  so  humble  with  all 
its  greatness,  I  never  heard  of;  and  my  first  wish  is,  that  I 
may  be  like  him,  as  far  as  is  possible,  in  everything  that  is 
pure,  lovely,  and  of  good  report.  Some  things  there  are, 
indeed,  which  I  would  not  wish  to  follow  ;  still,  not  to  long 
for  his  eminent  excellences  would  betray  a  want  of  feeling  and 
goodness.  The  secret  of  his  eloquence  undoubtedly  lay  in  his 
enthusiasm,  understanding  the  word  in  a  good  sense  ;  and 
that  none  can  hope  to  rival,  who  have  not  a  heart  as  finely 
framed  as  his, — the  same  warmth,  ardor,  and  sensibility. 
Much,  too,  of  his  animation  and  effect  must  be  attributed  to 
his  extempore  speaking,  which  gives  a  liveliness,  an  energy, 
a  glow  to  eloquence,  that  is  not  otherwise  attained. 

"  I  have  really  begun  to  consider  seriously,  whether  I  shall 
not  attempt  learning  the  art.  I  do  not  mean  for  constant  prac- 
tice ;  but  some  subjects  may  be  much  better  treated  by  extem- 
pore discourse  than  by  written  ;  and  much  of  the  illustration 
and  exhortation  of  every  sermon  might  be  left  for  the  manage- 
ment of  the  moment.  It  is  unquestionable,  that  there  is  a  life, 
a  soul,  as  it  were,  transfused  into  unpremeditated  expressions, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  73 

which  appeals  with  far  greater  force  to  the  sympathy  of  hear- 
ers, than  anything  which  can  be  written.  There  is  a  je  ne  sals 
quoi  in  the  countenance,  the  tones  of  voice,  the  gesture,  which 
goes  directly  to  the  heart,  and  which  you  in  vain  try  to  give 
to  a  written  production.  Animated  declamation,  even  if  it  be 
rather  flat  sense,  will  be  more  effectual,  than  the  most  elabo- 
rate composition  read  in  the  usual  way ;  and  accordingly  we 
find,  that  the  sermons  of  celebrated  extempore  preachers  are 
scarcely  worth  reading.  Dugald  Stewart,  in  his  '  Essays,' 
intimates,  you  may  remember,  that  the  art  may  be  acquired  by 
any  one ;  and,  if  I  could  obtain  it,  what  a  saving  of  time  there 
would  be  ! 

"  I  have  been  engaged  for  a  few  evenings  in  writing  a 
discourse  on  Profanity,  to  read  in  the  Academy  to-morrow. 
Wish  me  success. " 

FROM    HIS    FATHER. 

«  Feb.  28,  1814. 
"  I  read  your  letter  to  John,  which  he  received  last  week ; 
and,  though  neither  enthusiasm,  nor  the  love  of  enthusiasm,  is 
a  very  distinguishing  trait  in  my  character,  I  am  not  displeased 
to  see  some  of  it  in  you.  It  is  of  use  to  have  such  an  example 
presented  to  excite  emulation,  as  that  which  you  meet  with  in 
the  life  of  Spencer ;  still,  however,  they  are  to  be  contemplated 
and  followed  with  caution.  Every  real  excellence  is  not  to  be 
attempted  by  every  person ;  and  it  is  neither  a  reproach,  nor 
ought  it  to  be  a  discouragement,  to  any  one,  that  in  some  very 
peculiar  and  exalted  character  there  are  traits  to  which  he 
cannot  aspire.  One,  who  has  quickness  of  mind  and  self-pos- 
session enough  for  the  purpose,  may  doubtless  become  a  more 
popular  speaker  without  writing  than  with  ;  but  I  much  doubt, 
whether  any  man  could  become  so  useful  a  minister.  And 
you  are  totally  mistaken  in  the  imagination,  that  time  would 
be  saved  except  by  the  loss  of  that  which  were  more  than  an 
equivalent.  He  who  aspires  to  a  respectable  kind  of  popularity 
7 


74  UFB    OF    HENRY    WAKE,    JR. 

by  extempore  preaching,  must  not  be  sparing  in  labor  to  pre- 
pare himself  for  it.  Not  only  must  his  general  cultivation  and 
particular  preparation  be  great ;  he  must  also  be  always 
wrought  up  at  the  time  of  appearing  in  public  to  a  high  degree 
of  excitement.  Besides,  the  best  of  what  are  pressed  upon  the 
world  for  extempore  effusions,  are  in  a  great  degree,  if  not 
wholly,  memoriter  productions. 

"  I  would  not  discourage,  by  any  means,  the  cultivation  of 
the  talent  for  extempore  speaking ;  it  is  of  great  importance  to 
exalt  it  to  as  high  perfection  as  you  are  capable  of;  and  it  is 
doubtless  too  much  neglected.  But,  as  far  as  my  observation 
has  extended,  I  should  think  that  the  attainment  of  any  con- 
siderable degree  of  excellence  or  usefulness  in  it  could  not  be 
general  or  very  common. 

"  Looking  over  the  first  part  of  this  letter,  I  find  it  to  be  not 
exactly  what  I  intended.  It  is  too  general,  vague,  indefinite. 
It  may,  however,  do  for  hints ;  and  you  will  discriminate, 
wThere  I  have  not/  Continue  to  indulge  and  cherish  the  glow 
of  virtuous  feeling ;  there  is  no  danger  from  it  where  the  intel- 
lect is  also  cultivated  pari  passu.  If  your  understanding  is 
enlightened,  there  is  no  danger  of  feeling  too  much." 

The  person  of  whom  the  following  letter  contains  a 
notice,  was  a  son  of  Dr.  Abbot,  the  Principal  of  the 
Academy,  a  young  man  of  rare  qualifications  for  his 
profession,  and  one  who  filled,  whilst  he  lived,  a  large 
place  in  the  hopes  of  the  religious  community.  Of 
my  brother's  subsequent  intimacy  with  him,  and  the 
very  high  regard  in  which  he  always  held  him,  there 
will  be  occasion  to  speak  hereafter. 

to  his  father. 

"  "  Feb.  88,  1814. 
11 1   expect  to   send   this   letter   by   Mr.  J.  E.  Abbot.     He 
preached  here  on  Sunday,  and  gave,  I  believe,  universal  plea- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  75 

sure.  His  sermons  glowed  with  the  amiableness  of  his  dispo- 
sition, and  all  the  pure  feelings  of  his  heart.  They  rather 
produced  a  general  tranquillity  of  feeling  than  any  distinct 
impression ;  they  soothed  and  calmed  the  mind  into  a  placid, 
serene  temper;  there  was  nothing  to  excite  or  exhilarate.  He 
appears  to  have  studied  simplicity,  and  carefully  avoids  all 
ambitious  display.  He  delights  to  speak  of  the  meek,  peace- 
able character  of  the  gospel ;  he  dwells  much  upon  the  charac- 
ters of  God  and  the  Saviour ;  he  returns  to  them  often,  and 
seems  loath  to  quit  them.  To  such  discourses  his  manner  is 
not  ill-fitted ;  the  tones  of  his  voice  are  interesting,  and  keep 
the  attention  alive,  and  they  do  not  require  much  energy  in 
the  delivery.  Lam  son  has  suggested  a  reason  why  they  did 
not  give  more  an  impression  of  talents ;  they  speak  so  much 
of  what  is  amiable  and  lovely,  that  the  mind  of  the  hearer  is 
tranquillized,  and  so  totally  dissolved  in  the  gentle  feelings  he 
excites,  that  everything  exterior  is  forgotten,  and  he  does  not 
remember  to  criticise  or  admire.  This,  I  think,  is  a  true 
account  of  the  matter  ;  and  it  gives  a  pleasing  specimen  of  Mr. 
L.'s  talent  of  criticism  and  philosophical  investigation. 

"  I  am  engaged  now,  as  I  suppose  you  know,  in  Ecclesiasti- 
cal History.  I  have  read  and  pretty  carefully  studied  two 
volumes  of  Mosheim,  and  all  Gregory.  But  I  find,  that,  after 
all  the  labor  I  have  spent,  upon  what  has  certainly  no  very 
great  charms  of  interest,  I  must  expect  to  retain  but  very  little 
of  it ;  it  slips  from  the  memory  almost  as  soon  as  it  enters,  and 
I  find  myself  as  unknowing  as  before.  I  am  somewhat  com- 
forted for  this,  from  hearing  J.  Abbot  make  the  same  remark 
with  respect  to  himself.  It  is  said  somewhere,  that  things 
enter  and  are  retained  in  the  memory  by  means  of  the  imagi- 
nation. If  this  be  true,  it  will  account  for  the  slippery  nature 
of  church  history.  There  is  nothing  to  stick  to  the  fancy, 
— no  entertainment, — no  interest.  Some  strange  notions  and 
practices,  indeed,  excite  our  curiosity;  but,  when  that  is 
gratified,  they  pass  through  the  mind  and  are  forgotten.     Most 


76  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

of  ihe  other  matters  excite  only  disgust,  which  the  memory  is 
not  willing  to  nourish  and  keep  alive.  Or,  if  some  few  inter- 
est the  feelings,  the  train  of  events  is  so  short,  that  we  have 
but  little  aid  from  association,  and  the  impression  is  only  weak 
and  transient.  All  I  hope,  is  to  have  a  faint,  glimmering  view 
of  the  outline  of  events,  and  here  and  there  an  isolated  fact. 
Of  the  first  four  centuries  I  have  endeavored  to  treasure  up  the 
history  of  opinions,  and  eminent  men,  and  the  progress  of 
corruption  ;  but  the  following  ages,  as  they  passed  in  darkness, 
I  am  willing  should  remain  so.  It  is  too  late  to  change  their 
complexion ;  and  the  little  light  we  can  throw  upon  them  from 
this  distance,  serves  only  to  make  their  darkness  visible. 

"  Besides  this,  my  reading  has  been,  some  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment ;  some  in  the  Greek  New,  (of  which  I  never  condescended 
to  peruse  the  translation,  for  it  passes  through  my  mind  with 
less  impression,  and  in  it  I  do  not  so  readily  and  clearly 
discover  the  force  of  reasoning,  &c.)  ;  two  volumes,  12mo. ; 
besides  other  miscellaneous.  I  have  copied  sketches  of  ser- 
mons, as  you  recommended,  and  written  one.  Thus  you  have 
the  amount  of  my  labor." 

from  his  father. 

"  Feb.  1814. 
"  I  have  not  yet  heard  Mr.  John  E.  Abbot  preach,  but  have 
heard  highly  favorable  reports  from  those  who  have.  He  is 
spoken  of  as  I  should  expect,  as  very  interesting  and  impres- 
sive. You  will  have  the  advantage  of  entering  into  life  with 
a  set  of  young  men  of  your  own  standing,  in  the  same  pro- 
fession which  you  have  chosen,  who  will  carry  with  them  as 
much  talents,  learning,  piety,  study,  respectability  of  character, 
and  resolution  to  do  good  in  the  world, — I  will  venture  to  say, 
— as  ever  came  on  the  stage  in  this  country  at  one  time.  The 
present  prevailing  taste  in  students  for  the  critical  study  of  the 
Scriptures  will  constitute  an  era  in  the  theological  character 
of  our  ministers  ;   it  will  continue  and  gradually  produce  great 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  77 

changes, — I  hope,  more  just  views,  and  at  the  same  time  more 
of  the  Christian  temper.  I  hope,  that  what  constitutes  true 
liberality  will  be  better  understood  and  better  practised,  that 
the  style  of  preaching  will  be  more  scriptural,  serious,  practi- 
cal, and  that,  the  true  nature  and  design  of  the  gospel  being 
better  understood,  they  will  be  kept  more  constantly  in  view. 
You  have  great  excitements  to  exertion,  and  your  mind  I  trust 
is  taking  a  right  direction." 

to  his  sister. 

"  Feb.  23,  1814. 
"  Dear  Harriet, 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  John  last  week,  in  which  he  told  me 
that  he  had  been  to  Hingham,  and  had  had  a  very  pleasant 
visit.  He  told  me,  too,  how  pleasantly  you  were  situated,  and 
how  happy  you  seemed  to  be.  You  may  be  sure  I  was  very 
glad  to  hear  this ;  for  I  take  a  deep  interest  in  your  welfare, 
and  in  whatever  is  preparing  you  to  be  a  useful,  amiable 
woman.  Xo  doubt,  you  feel  thankful,  as  you  ought,  for 
the  blessings  which  surround  you,  and  are  sensible  of  your 
obligations  to  improve  your  great  privileges.  Your  advantages 
for  improvement  are  very  great ;  and,  as  they  are  made  easy 
and  pleasant  to  you,  you  ought  to  use  the  utmost  diligence 
and  exertion  to  make  the  most  of  the  golden  opportunity  ;  the 
season  of  youth  will  not  last  forever ;  and  middle  life  and  old 
age  can  neither  be  happy  nor  respectable,  unless  youth  is  im- 
proved. When  you  grow  older,  you  will  have  less  time  to 
devote  to  the  cultivation  of  your  mind ;  but  you  will  have  a 
good  deal  of  time  for  thought  and  reflection,  in  which  the  ideas 
and  knowledge  you  acquired  in  youth  will  be  vastly  important 
to  you  ;  and,  if  you  have  not  a  good  deal  laid  up  beforehand, 
how  barren  will  be  your  mind,  how  unprofitable  your  medita- 
tions !  Besides,  as  you  will  feel  the  want  of  information,  both 
to  supply  you  with  matter  for  thought,  and  for  conversation, 


78  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

you  will  look  back  with  exceeding  remorse  and  sorrow  on  the 
valuable  moments  you  wasted  in  youth  ;  and  you  will  wish 
that  you  could  live  them  over  again,  that  you  might  spend  them 
better.  Improve,  then,  every  privilege  you  enjoy  ;  collect  now  a 
fund  of  useful  knowledge  and  innocent  amusement,  which  may 
remain  in  your  memory,  and  entertain  you  in  future  times. 
But  above  all,  my  dear  girl,  remember  how  valuable  and 
necessary  is  a  good,  pleasant,  amiable  temper.  Be  care- 
ful to  form  good  habits,  and  so  obtain  a  good  character.  You 
have  excellent  models  around  you ; — imitate  them  in  every- 
thing that  is  pure  and  lovely.  If  you  see  anything  in  any  of 
your  companions  particularly  agreeable  and  lovely,  try  to  copy 
it.  And,  if  you  find  anything  disagreeable,  examine  whether 
there  be  not  something  like  it  in  yourself,  and  correct  and 
avoid  it  for  the  future.  In  this  way,  you  will  become  as 
amiable  and  lovely  as  any  one  could  desire.  And  especially 
never  forget  your  Bible  and  your  God ;  you  know  your  busi- 
ness is  as  much  to  prepare  yourself  for  another  world,  as  to 
become  useful  in  this." 

Toward  the  close  of  the  second  term  of  this  year,  he 
became  strongly  desirous  of  relinquishing  his  connexion 
with  the  Academy  and  returning  to  Cambridge. 

TO    HIS    FATHER. 

"  April  1,  1S14. 
"  I  believe  I  have  hinted  to  you,  that  I  begin  to  be  weary  of 
Exeter.  I  wish  now  to  let  you  know  exactly  how  matters 
stand ;  for  it  is  my  settled  determination,  if  possible,  to  throw 
up  my  connexions  at  the  end  of  this  term,  to  retire  from  my 
elevated  station  to  the  sober  tranquillity  of  private  life.  I 
must  have  very  much  mistaken  my  talents,  if  ever  I  imagined 
myself  fit  for  an  instructor.  I  have  expressed  my  doubts  to 
you  before,  particularly  once,  I  recollect,  during  the  last  vaca- 
tion.    I  have  taken  particular  pains  to  examine  myself  this 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  79 

term ;  to  compare  what  I  do  with  what  I  think  I  cught  to  do ; 
to  compare  the  progress  of  my  classes  with  those  taught  by  the 
Preceptor,  and  my  discipline  writh  his  ;  the  result  is  little  to  my 
honor,  and  still  less  to  my  satisfaction.  I  am  convinced  I  have 
but  little,  scarcely  any,  faculty  of  teaching;  that  I  am  a  real 
injury  to  the  Academy,  as  I  occupy  the  place  of  another,  whose 
endeavors  would  be  more  successful  and  useful,  if  not  more 
faithful  and  constant.  I  do  not  accuse  myself  of  want  of 
fidelity ;  I  believe  the  deficiency  is  in  the  original  cast  of  my 
character  ;  which  I  have  endeavored  in  vain  to  remedy.  I 
have  not  energy  or  uniformity  enough  for  my  station,  and  I 
have  been  unable  to  obtain  them.  Can  I  then  conscientiously 
keep  a  place,  the  duties  of  which  I  am  unable  to  perform? 
Ought  I  not  immediately  to  leave  a  situation  in  which  I  believe 
myself  to  be  doing  hurt  rather  than  good  ?  Ought  I  to  encum- 
ber an  office  which  perhaps  many  a  deserving  young  man  is 
ready  to  fill,  who  needs  its  profits,  and  is  competent  to  its 
duties  ?  I  expected  to  improve,  or  I  would  not  have  engaged 
myself  for  another  year.  Of  improvement,  I  have  given  up 
even  the  most  distant  hope  ;  and  I  feel  ashamed  to  meet  Dr. 
Abbot,  and  live  so  kindly  and  familiarly  wTith  him,  wThile  I  am 
conscious  how  ill  I  am  serving  him. 

11  But,  besides  this,  I  feel  anxious  to  progress  in  my  profes- 
sion, and  I  feel  that  I  am  losing  time  here.  To  be  sure,  I  am 
young  enough  to  delay  yet  for  some  time  ;  and  were  I  satisfied 
with  my  doings  here,  I  should  think  nothing  of  this  ;  because 
I  know  the  inconvenience  you  must  suffer  from  my  being 
with  you,  and  dependent  on  you  for  support.  But  it  is  natural 
that  I  should  wish  to  commence  that  which  is  to  be  my  pur- 
suit through  life.  It  is  plain  that  little  time  can  be  given  to 
my  studies  here.  Seven  hours  in  the  Academy  are  seven 
hours  of  severe  mental  toil,  and  require  a  proportionate  relax- 
ation. This  leaves  not  much  to  myself.  If  I  apply  myself 
two  evenings  successively  without  interruption,  I  become  har- 
assed  and   debilitated,  unfit   to   labor  either  at   home   or  in 


80  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

school.  Hence,  I  must  pass  part  of  every  evening  abroad,  and 
accidental  circumstances  will  not  unfrequently  make  a  whole 
evening  necessary.  This  makes  my  mind  giddy,  unsettles  it, 
deranges  its  ideas ;  and  so,  much  of  the  profit  of  study  is  lost. 
Deduct  all  this,  and  how  much  will  remain  for  steady  appli- 
cation ? 

"  I  think,  too,  my  habits  of  study  have  been  injured  from 
another  cause.  In  the  daily  routine  of  business,  one  object 
follows  another  in  quick  succession.  I  am  now  reading  of  the 
sack  of  Troy,  now  a  chapter  of  the  New  Testament,  and  now 
one  of  Esop's  Fables ;  and  besides  this  constant  change  of  the 
attention  from  one  object  to  another,  it  is  momentarily  called 
off  to  the  persons  and  things  around  me  ;  thus  it  is  in  a 
perpetual  state  of  fluctuation,  and  cannot  fix  for  any  length 
of  time  upon  any  one  thing.  In  this  way  I  find  a  habit  of 
mind  has  been  formed ;  for  I  cannot  without  the  greatest  effort 
confine  my  attention,  when  I  am  studying,  to  any  single  sub- 
ject. I  soon  grow  weary,  and  am  compelled  to  change  my 
occupation  frequently;  and,  even  during  the  little  time  I  am 
able  to  devote  to  the  same  subject,  I  am  perpetually  called 
away  by  trifles,  and  have  my  train  of  ideas  broken  and  scat- 
tered by  the  most  unimportant  accident.  This,  to  a  student, 
is  a  great  evil ;  for  that  man  only  can  make  progress  and  rise 
to  eminence  who  has  his  mind  perfectly  under  his  control,  and 
can  at  any  time  muster  its  scattered  powers,  and  direct  its 
efforts  without  interruption  or  weariness  to  whatever  subject 
he  pleases.  Without  this  command  of  the  thoughts,  this 
power  of  continued  attention,  his  mind  must  bear  a  trifling 
character,  and  be  incapable  of  extraordinary  exertion,  or  of 
producing  great  effects. 

"  E has  preached  here,  and  left  those  feelings  behind 

him  which  might  have  been  expected.  His  eloquence  com- 
pletely entranced  his  audience ;  in  the  forenoon  he  drew  tears 
from  many  an  eye,  and  in  the  afternoon  he  led  us  as  one  man 
on  a  crusade.     Still  they  think  he  is  too  rich  for  common  use, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  81 

and  would  prefer  A .     Miss  E gives  as  a  reason  for 

this  preference :  '  One  seems  more  like  a  dying  man  speaking 
to  dying  men  ;  the  other,  like  some  superior  intelligence,  dis- 
coursing to  mortals  of  what  they  ought  to  feel  and  know,  but  as 
if  himself  were  too  far  exalted  to  require  such  feelings  or  such 
knowledge.' 

"  One  copy  of  Buckminster's  '  Sermons'  has  been  received 
in  town.  Dr.  Abbot  expressed  the  most  unbounded  admira- 
tion. They  were  read  aloud  to  a  number  of  persons,  who 
were  almost  silent  in  their  praise,  because  they  could  find  no 
words  to  express  themselves." 

from  his  father. 

"  April  9,  1814. 

11  Your  letter,  my  dear  Henry,  which  I  have  just  now 
received  from  the  office,  is  written  with  so  much  attention, 
care,  and  apparent  deliberation,  that  I  am  precluded  from  ask- 
ing you,  whether  it  was  not  the  dictate  of  some  momentary 
feeling,  and  the  effect  of  something  incidental.  It  seems  to 
express  a  deliberate  determination,  and  I  must  so  consider  it. 
Nor  will  it  probably  be  to  any  purpose,  as  I  am  entirely  unac- 
quainted with  the  particulars  which  have  given  the  impres- 
sions under  which  you  have  come  to  your  present  decision,  to 
say  anything  on  the  probability,  that  you  may  have  allowed 
your  feelings  too  much  to  influence  your  judgment,  and  a  mor- 
bid irritability  to  give  you  more  sombre  views  and  gloomy 
feelings  than  are  just  and  reasonable. 

"  But,  previous  to  any  arrangements  on  the  subject,  it  will 
be  proper  for  you,  if  you  have  not  already  done  it, — not  proper 
merely,  but  indispensable, — to  consult  Dr.  Abbot ;  to  know  his 
wishes  ;  to  open  your  mind  as  freely  and  fully  to  him  on  the 
subject  as  you  have  done  to  me  ;  to  be  kept  back  from  it  by  no 
feelings  of  reserve,  or  timidity,  or  false  shame.  But  you  will 
recollect,  that  you  have  no  right  to  take  into  the  account  the 
consideration  of  your  own  studies.    If  you  find  that  Dr.  Abbot 


82  LTFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

is  satisfied  with  your  services,  is  not  willing  to  have  you  leave 
the  Academy  till  the  expiration  of  your  engagement,  or  is  not. 
able  to  procure  a  supply  for  your  place  with  which  he  is  satis- 
fied, you  have  no  right  to  wish  to  relinquish  your  engage- 
ment. 

"  But,  if  you  find  that  it  is  perfectly  agreeable  to  Dr.  Abbot, 
that  a  supply  can  be  procured  entirely  to  his  satisfaction,  and 
that  no  injury  or  disappointment  accrue,  I  shall  not  say  a  word 
to  prevent  your  taking  the  course  you  wish.  You  are  a  bet- 
ter judge  than  it  is  possible  for  me  to  be,  what  the  exigencies 
of  the  case  require,  or  will  justify.  If  it  is  your  deliberate 
opinion,  that  you  have  not  succeeded  well  as  an  instructor, 
and  that  your  services  are  not  useful,  and  you  find  that  better 
can  be  rendered  by  some  other  person,  you  must  be  extremely 
careful  not  to  add  to  the  chagrin  you  naturally  feel  in  not  equal- 
ling your  wishes,  and  satisfying  your  own  expectations,  by 
exposing  yourself  to  the  charge  of  anything  dishonorable  in 
your  manner  of  leaving  your  employment. 

81 1  will  further  suggest  to  you  to  consider,  how  far  your 
impatience  to  be  engaged  in  the  study  of  your  profession  may 
be  the  foundation  of  your  self-dissatisfaction, — or  serve  to 
increase  it,  and  to  make  you  restless  in  performing  your  duty, 
impatient  to  get  away  from  it,  and  dissatisfied  with  your  suc- 
cess to  an  unreasonable  degree.  I  hope  you  will  carefully 
probe  your  motives  to  the  very  bottom  ;  and,  by  all  means  take 
no  step  that  will  be  unhandsome  as  respects  Dr.  Abbot,  to  whom 
you  owe  and  feel  so  much  respect,  attachment  and  gratitude." 

TO    HIS    FATHER. 

88  April  14,  1S14. 
88  The  general  purport  of  }^our  letter  is  exactly  what  I  had 
anticipated,  that  is,  so  much  as  relates  to  the  propriety  of  my 
leaving  Exeter,  if  circumstances  are  as  I  stated  them.  I  was 
pleased  to  find,  too,  that  the  course  you  say  I  ought  to  have 
taken  is  that  precisely  which  I  have  taken.      I  conversed  with 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  83 

Dr.  Abbot  some  weeks  ago.  He  said  I  must  not  be  discour- 
aged,— I  succeeded  as  well  as  young  men  in  general.  He 
had  hoped  I  should  stay  another  year ;  it  would  be  difficult  to 
supply  my  place  at  this  season,  and  I  certainly  would  not  leave 
him  destitute.  When  I  urged  the  subject,  he  said  '  We  will 
talk  of  it  some  other  time;'  and  here  the  matter  has  rested. 
Some  particular  expressions  he  used  were  nattering  to  me ; 
but  it  was  evident  from  the  general  course  of  his  remarks,  that 
he  was  no  less  disappointed  than  myself  with  the  result  of  this 
second  year's  experiment.  I  shall  speak  to  him  again  to-mor- 
row, and  will  let  you  know  the  issue. 

"  The  resolution  I  have  taken  is  nothing  sudden ;  it  has 
been  some  time  forming,  and  I  have  considered  it  on  every 
side.  A  man  does  not  readily  fall  into  a  belief  of  his  own 
incompetency ;  it  must  have  been  forced  strongly  on  my  notice, 
or  I  should  not  have  seen  it.  I  have  examined  my  motives,  I 
trust,  faithfully;  and  though  I  have  perhaps  a  little  impatience 
to  answer  for,  yet  I  am  convinced  they  are  substantially  such 
as  I  have  stated  them.  I  regret  very  much  that  there  is  no- 
body in  or  near  Cambridge  who  could  take  my  place ;  for, 
without  a  successor,  I  should  be  compelled  to  remain,  let  who 
would  object  and  be  dissatisfied. 

"  April  15.  I  have  seen  Dr.  Abbot  again ;  he  seems  unwil- 
ling to  have  the  subject  mentioned,  and  is  decidedly  against 
my  leaving  him.  He  seemed  glad  when  I  told  him  that  nobody 
could  be  procured  at  Cambridge,  though,  if  there  could  be,  he 
would  have  exchanged  me  for  him.  So  that,  if  nobody 
springs  up  from  some  other  quarter,  I  am  inevitably  fixed  here 
for  the  summer, — doomed  to  perpetual  anxiety,  and  disap- 
pointment and  chagrin.  However,  I  must  make  it  an  occa- 
sion of  moral  discipline ;  and  instead  of  brooding  upon  it  with 
gloom  and  sullenness,  to  the  injury  of  my  temper,  I  must  try 
to  make  myself  better  by  it ;  and  if  I  can  succeed  in  subduing 
all  impatience,  and  becoming  quite  content,  I  shall  think  I 
may  be  so  in  almost  any  state.     I  shall  not  probably  write 


84  LJFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

again,  as  the  term  is  near  its  close.  In  the  vacation,  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  have  done,  and  what  I  have  left  undone ;  how 
much  time  1  have  spent  profitably,  and  how  much  idled  and 
trifled  away.  And  I  shall  idle  away  the  vacation,  except 
what  time  1  spend  talking  with  you, — for  I  am  jaded  out; 
three  weeks1  romping  will  be  hardly  enough  to  make  me  a 
man  again. 

"  I  believe  I  have  nothing  to  say  more,  except  to  give  my 
love  to  all.  Mr.  Buckminster's  '  Sermons '  are  read  here  with 
enthusiasm.  For  my  own  part,  I  prefer  them  much  to  any 
others  I  have  read.  In  the  first  place  they  contain  a  vast  deal 
of  matter  ;  the  compression  is  astonishing ;  there  is  not  a  word 
which  has  not  its  weight,  nor  a  sentence  which  does  not  bear 
directly  on  the  subject.  Everything  is  to  the  purpose,  and 
everything  is  said  exactly  as  you  want  it.  And,  withal,  they 
have  all  the  impressiveness  and  animation  that  will  not  allow 
the  attention  to  flag,  which  arise  from  true  eloquence." 

Here  the  matter  rested.  No  further  attempt  was 
made  to  procure  any  one  in  his  place.  He  spent  the 
vacation  in  relaxation  at  home  and  in  visiting  some 
relations  in  the  district  of  Maine,  and  returned  to  his 
duties  in  an  improved  state  of  mind  and  body.  There 
is  little  doubt  that  indisposition,  induced  by  the  ex- 
hausting nature  of  his  occupations,  something  of  the 
same  state  of  health,  as  that  from  which  he  afterwards 
suffered  so  much  under  the  operation  of  similar  causes, 
had  induced  that  morbid  view  of  his  situation  which 
seems  to  have  so  strongly  possessed  him.  The  manner 
in  which  he  writes  after  returning  to  Exeter,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  next  term,  shows  plainly  enough  that 
no  other  explanation  is  needed. 


life  of  hexky  wake,  jr.  88 

to  his  brother  john. 

"  June  4,  1814. 
"  The  exercise  I  took  in  the  vacation  has  done  me  a  vast 
deal  of  good.  It  has  recruited  my  strength  and  spirits,  restored 
the  tone  and  vigor  of  my  mind,  expelled  the  blue  devils,  and 
given  to  nymph  Cheerfulness  her  rightful  authority.  Every- 
thing around  me  is  smiling  and  propitious.  The  fair  month 
of  May,  indeed,  as  you  observe,  has  been  in  a  wayward  hu- 
mor, and  treated  us  most  foully,  but  our  academic  term  has 
commenced  with  most  propitious  smiles.  The  Preceptor's  first 
act  was  to  dismiss  one  of  the  irregulars,  and  protest  most  sol- 
emnly against  the  smallest  disorder,  the  slightest  infringement 
of  the  strictest  discipline.  We  have  enjoyed  a  perfect  calm 
ever  since,  which  promises  to  be  lasting  ;  and  there  seems, 
besides,  to  be  an  unusual  disposition  to  studiousness,  as  well  as 
regularity.  My  own  studies,  I  believe,  go  on  as  well  as  can 
be  expected.  I  have  accomplished  a  good  deal,  as  I  always 
can  at  the  beginning  of  a  term,  but  I  grow  capable  of  less  and 
less  as  it  draws  to  a  close.  Mr.  Hildreth  is  to  supply  for  a 
few  Sabbaths  at  Portsmouth,  and  I  have  engaged  to  read  in 
his  place  during  his  absence.  I  don't  know  whether  this  is  a 
perfectly  regular  and  proper  step,  but  I  was  earnestly  requested 
to  do  it.  Mr.  Whitman  had  done  it  before,  and  I  thought  it 
would  be  of  service  to  me,  as  undoubtedly  it  will  be  in  many 
important  respects." 

He  accordingly  officiated  for  several  Sundays  in  the 
place  of  Mr.  Hildreth,  who  was  one  of  his  fellow-in- 
structors in  the  Academy.  The  following  letters  furnish 
a  sufficient  account  of  the  circumstances  under  which 
he  thus,  for  the  first  time,  appeared  in  the  pulpit,  of  the 
degree  of  success  which  attended  the  attempt,  and  of 
the  feelings  which  he  experienced  in  connexion  with  it. 
S 


86  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE,    JR. 

to  his  father. 

"  June  29,  1814. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  will  say  to  my  entering  the  pulpit 
in  this  way ;  I  was  in  hope  to  have  had  a  word  from  you  about 
it  before  this.  For  my  own  part,  I  confess,  however,  that  I 
had  no  hesitation  on  the  subject,  whether  right  or  wrong  I  can- 
not tell ;  but  in  truth  I  have  always  had  a  strong  inclination,  it 
might  very  well  be  called  an  innate  propensity,  to  preach, 
for  I  do  not  know  whence  it  arose ;  and  I  seized  this  oppor- 
tunity, more,  perhaps,  from  a  desire  to  gratify  my  favorite 
wish,  than  from  any  very  distinct  reasons  of  any  kind.  I 
have  made  the  experiment,  and  I  think  some  good  will  result 
from  it.  That  which  regards  my  preparation  for  a  public 
speaker,  is  very  obvious,  and  I  am  glad  to  find,  that  I  can 
speak  so  loud  with  so  little  fatigue.  Its  inward  effects  on  my 
own  mind  and  heart  are  more  important  and  more  doubtful.  I 
am  sorry  I  cannot  perceive  all  I  wished  and  hoped.  One  valu- 
able piece  of  self-knowledge,  however,  I  have  had  abundantly 
and  mournfully  confirmed,  that  my  ruling  passion  is  the  love 
of  praise,  and  that  it  will  require  the  utmost  vigilance  and 
most  constant  exertions  to  prevent  my  being  made  the  slave  of 
vanity,  and  doing  all  things  to  be  seen  of  men.  It  would  be 
melancholy,  indeed,  if  I  should  go  through  life  preaching 
Christ  for  my  own  sake,  and  quite  as  attentive  to  my  reputa- 
tion as  to  that  of  the  gospel,  turning  the  pulpit  into  a  stage 
from  which  to  display  myself  to  the  world.  I  try  to  speak 
with  as  much  openness  as  possible  to  you,  as,  if  it  is  a  case 
which  admits  of  it,  I  wish  your  advice. 

14  I  have  read  one  sermon  from  Sherlock,  four  from  Porteus, 
and  one  of  his  lectures  (from  the  pulpit,  I  mean.)  I  had 
never  seen  Porteus  before  ;  I  admire  them  very  much ;  they 
are  sensible,  and  pious,  and  eloquent,  in  everything  exactly 
to  my  taste,  except  that  there  is  a  want  of  distinctness  in  the 
'divisions  of  his  discourses.     Sherlock's  are  very  fine.     I  think 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  87 

they  contain  a  great  deal  of  valuable  good  sense,  and  might 
many  of  them  be  studied  to  great  advantage.  They  are, 
indeed,  much  better  suited  to  the  closet  than  the  desk  ;  not 
half  of  what  is  valuable  can  be  carried  away  from  a  single 
reading  ;  and  I  think,  or  it  may  be  the  fault  of  my  own 
dulness,  that  he  has  some  obscurity  in  his  arrangement  and 
way  of  treating  a  subject,  though  he  pretends  to  be  very 
methodical ;  and  he  takes  frequently  so  little  pains  to  show  us 
the  connexion  between  the  commencement  of  one  paragraph 
and  the  close  of  the  preceding,  or  sometimes  how  a  whole 
paragraph  has  any  bearing  on  the  subject,  that  the  reader  is 
often  obliged  to  stop,  and  ponder,  and  make  from  his  own 
reflections  a  link,  which  the  writer  was  too  proud  to  furnish. 
Dr.  Butler  would  have  admired  this,  if  we  may  judge  by  his 
preface  ;  but  it  does  not  at  all  please  us  smaller  heads  of 
modern  growth. 

"  I  must  confess,  Tillotson  disappointed  me  ;  not  but  that 
he  has  a  great  deal  of  piety  and  good  sense,  but  there  is  a 
smaller  fund  of  the  latter  than  I  expected  ;  he  is  quaint,  and 
he  strings  his  good  remarks  together  so  loosely  and  care- 
lessly that  they  lose  half  their  beauty  and  attraction  from  the 
awkward  position  in  which  he  places  them.  I  believe  I  have 
heard  him  praised  for  a  simple  style,  but  he  wants  compactness 
and  neatness  exceedingly. 

11  Perhaps  you  will  say  my  remarks  are  not  very  important, 
and  are  too  much  employed  on  the  externals,  the  mere  dress 
of  thought.  I  have  not,  however,  passed  lightly  over  the 
matter,  but  have  endeavored  to  appreciate  it  as  I  ought.  But 
the  more  I  read,  the  more  I  am  convinced  of  the  necessity  of 
arranging  thoughts  properly,  if  we  would  have  them  attractive 

and   forcible  ;    and,  as  L has   taught  me  that  a  man's 

manner  of  writing  may  be  generally  considered  as  a  pattern 
of  his  manner  of  thinking,  and  that  whatever  looseness,  incor- 
rectness, &c,  we  find  in  the  former,  has  its  origin  in  the 
latter,  I  attend  to  this  subject  principally  with  a  view  to  learn 


88  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

how  thoughts  should  be  managed  and  arranged,  to  learn  what 
faults  are  to  be  avoided,  and  what  excellences  imitated,  in  mar- 
shalling and  stationing  ideas.  Am  I  intelligible  ?  It  is  with 
this  intention  of  improving  myself  in  what  I  now  consider  a 
very  important  point,  that  I  make  criticisms  of  this  kind. 
I  could  wish  to  divide  and  arrange  a  discourse  as  neatly  as 
Blair  or  Buckminster  ;  I  think  here  they  excel.  Then,  if  I 
were  a  city  preacher,  I  should  wish  to  write  it  like  Porteus  ; 
if  a  country  preacher,  like  the  sermons  in  '  The  Christian 
Observer,'  with  one  more  degree  of  animation.  Blair's  style 
would  not  do,  for  he  is  too  moderate,  and  has  too  much  same- 
ness ;  nor  Buckminster's,  for  it  is  too  finished. 

"  However,  after  all,  if  a  man  has  a  clear  head  and  a  good 
heart,  he  will  do  well  enough  without  troubling  himself  about 
models,  much  better  than  he  can  ever  do  by  the  latter  alone, 
if  he  wants  the  former,  or  either  of  the  former.  Indeed,  it  is 
nothing  but  the  lamentable  fastidiousness  of  taste  produced  by 
learning  and  refinement,  which  makes  this  study  and  artifice 
at  all  necessary.  A  sermon  in  a  barn  extempore,  from  a  man 
who  never  read  anything  but  his  Bible  and  Psalm  Book,  but 
who  speaks  in  earnest,  and  because  he  feels,  will  have  more 
effect  on  more  persons,  will  give  rise  to  more  good  and  pious 
feelings  and  actions,  than  the  most  eloquent  and  finished 
harangue  that  was  ever  penned.  Still  I  would  not  have  all 
preachers  made  on  this  model ;  the  learned  and  refined  must 
have  preachers  suited  to  them,  as  well  as  the  more  rude  and 
simple  ;  they  cannot,  both  classes,  drink  religion  from  the 
same  vessels,  though  they  may  draw  it  from  the  same  fountain  ; 
and,  perhaps,  as  he  is  the  more  excellent  artist  who  makes 
glass  tumblers  for  the  rich,  than  he  who  makes  wooden  bowls 
for  the  poor,  so  he  is  the  more  commendable  and  praisewor- 
thy, who  can  recommend  religion  to  the  higher  classes  in 
such  a  way  as  to  influence  their  consciences  and  lives." 


LIFE  OF  HENRY  WARE,  JR.  89 


from  his  father. 

"  July  1,  1814. 

"  I  received,  yesterday,  your  letter  of  no  date,  and  received, 
as  I  always  do  from  your  letters,  a  great  deal  of  satisfaction 
from  its  contents.  As  you  are  capable  of  perceiving  the  foible 
by  which  you  are  endangered,  and  of  feeling  the  necessity  of 
guarding  against  it,  I  have  reason  to  hope,  that  you  will  so 
keep  before  your  mind  the  higher  and  better  motives  of  action, 
as  to  leave  that  in  question  only  its  proper  degree  of  influence. 
The  opposite  fault,  that  of  indifference  to  public  opinion, 
you  will  not  forget,  is  also  to  be  guarded  against.  Indeed,  I 
know  not  where,  in  the  moral  any  more  than  in  the  natural 
world,  there  is  a  Scylla  without  its  Charybdis  on  the  other 
side.  I  hope  you  will  be  under  a  safe  pilotage  of  sound  sense 
and  upright  intentions,  which  will  steer  you  safely  between 
them. 

"  If  you  find  yourself  competent  to  the  task,  I  am  not  sorry 
that  you  have  the  opportunity  of  reading  and  performing- 
worship  in  public.  It  may  be  made  a  very  useful  discipline 
to  you  in  many  respects.  You  will  learn  the  compass  and 
strength  of  your  voice,  and  its  modulation,  and  something  of 
your  power  of  engaging  the  attention  of  an  assembly  by  your 
manner,  and  may  receive  hints  by  which  to  correct  any  faults 
of  attitude,  enunciation,  or  gesture.  What  is  more  important, 
it  will  give  an  intellectual  stimulus,  teach  you  to  read  and 
judge  of  sermons  with  different  and  better  discrimination,  help 
you  to  form  a  good  taste  in  writing,  and  probably  more  prac- 
tical than  you  would  otherwise  do.  Most  of  all,  it  will  produce 
a  moral  excitement,  bring  into  exercise  your  religious  affec- 
tions, enable  you  to  understand  more  of  your  own  heart,  and 
thus  give  you  means  and  motives,  which  you  had  not  before, 
of  self-correction,  and  religious  and  moral  improvement. 

"  The  notices  you  have  taken  on  these  subjects  are  a  pledge 
to  me,  that  you  will  lay  yourself  open  to  improvement  in  all 
8* 


90 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 


these  respects.  One  effect  of  this  anticipation  of  study  and 
preparation,  I  hope  you  will  guard  against, — that  of  impatience 
and  precipitation.  I  shall  wish  you  to  go  through  a  consid- 
erable course  of  preparatory  study  before  you  commence 
preaching,  though  I  shall  have  no  wish  for  you  to  defer  it 
beyond  a  reasonable  length  of  time.  Another  hope  I  have  is, 
that,  in  gaining  confidence  and  the  power  of  self-possession, 
you  will  lose  no  part  of  that  modesty  which  becomes  a  young 
man." 

His  services  were  so  acceptable  to  the  Society,  that 
he  was  engaged  to  read  to  them  as  long  as  he  remained 
in  Exeter.  Dr.  Abbot,  in  a  letter  before  quoted,  alludes 
to  the  same  subject.  "  About  this  time  it  occurred  in 
our  little  Society,  where  most  of  our  respectable  and 
educated  gentlemen  attended  worship,  that  the  desk 
was  to  be  left  vacant  for  a  few  Sabbaths,  and  Mr.  Ware 
was  applied  to  to  supply  it  by  performing  the  devotional 
exercises,  and  reading  from  printed  discourses.  I  was 
at  first  astonished  at  his  accepting  the  invitation,  and 
went  to  church  with  much  anxiety  for  my  young  friend  ; 
but  1  was  soon  relieved,  and  delighted  with  his  self- 
possession,  the  propriety  and  ardor  of  his  devotional 
exercises,  the  skill  and  judgment  of  his  selections  of 
discourses,  and  his  very  interesting  manner  of  delivering 
them.  We  were  all  delighted  with  him  ;  so  much  so, 
that,  at  the  close  of  the  engagement,  Judge  Smith* 
exclaimed  to  me,  as  we  left  church;  <I  have  often 
attended  church  in  Boston,  New  York,  and  Philadel- 
phia ;  and  I  do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  been  better  sat- 
1  with  exercises  and  services  of  four  Sabbaths,  than 
with  this  young  man  of  yours.  He  will  be  eminent  in 
his  profession/  " 

*  Hon.  Jeremiah  Smith,  at  different  times  Governor  and  Chief  Justice  of 
New  Hampshire. 


CHAPTER    V. 

STUDIES    DIVINITY  AT    CAMBRIDGE STATE    OF  EDUCATION  THERE HE 

IS    APPROBATED RESULTS    OF     SELF-EXAMINATION FIRST    PREACH- 
ING— ORDAINED    PASTOR    OVER    THE    SECOND    CHURCH    IN    BOSTON. 

1814-17.     JET.  20—23. 

In  August.  1S14.  he  left  Exeter,  and  returned  to 
Cambridge,  to  finish  his  theological  studies  as  a  resi- 
dent graduate  at  the  University.  He  now  lived  in  his 
father's  house,  in  habits  of  constant  daily  intercourse 
with  him,  and  studying  under  his  personal  direction. 
All  the  members  of  the  family  were  also  at  this  time 
at  home ;  and  this  period,  therefore,  furnishes  none  of 
those  materials  for  biography,  which  are  afforded  by 
the  familiar  interchange  of  letters.  The  stated  provi- 
sions for  theological  education  at  Cambridge  were,  at 
this  time,  very  scanty.  The  studies  were  pursued 
under  the  general  superintendence  of  the  Professor  of 
Divinity,  who  laid  out  a  regular  course  of  reading ;  but 
this  course  was  merely  advisory.  There  were  no  exer- 
cises, except  a  single  one  every  week  in  the  criticism  of 
the  New  Testament;  no  examinations,  no  instruction 
in  parochial  duty.  There  were  no  opportunities  for 
practice  in  public  speaking,  except  at  the  weekly  meet- 
ings of  a  society  of  the  students,  of  which  Mr.  Norton 
was  at  this  time  president.  At  these  meetings  there 
were  devotional  exercises  and  a  sermon,  followed  by 


92  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

observations  and  critical  remarks.  No  examinations 
being  held,  no  authority  or  license  to  preacli  was  de- 
rived from  a  connexion  with  the  institution  :  but.  at  the 
close  of  a  suitable  period  of  study,  which  was.  however, 
by  no  means  of  uniform  length,  the  student  presented 
himself  to  some  Association  of  ministers,  by  whom,  after 
they  had  made  such  inquiry  respecting  his  qualifica- 
tions as  were  judged  necessary,  and  heard  a  sermon  of 
his  composition,  he  was,  to  use  the  phrase  of  the  da}', 
approbated,  This  body  claimed  no  authority  in  this 
matter,  and  did  not  regard  themselves  as  having  power 
to  require  any  particular  amount  of  qualification,  any 
regular  course  of  study,  or  any  definite  period  of  time 
spent  in  preparation :  nor  did  they  profess  to  confer  any 
rights.  Their  certificate  was  merely  one  of  recommen- 
dation. 

On  his  first  return  to  Cambridge,  my  brother  had  been 
invited  by  Mr.  Norton,  then  librarian  of  the  College,  to 
take  the  office  of  sub-librarian.  This  was  a  place  of 
small  emolument,  but  occupied  very  little  time,  and  occa- 
sioned no  considerable  interruption  to  the  regular  prose- 
cution of  his  studies.  He  held  it  for  one  year.  During 
the  period  of  his  professional  preparation,  his  attention 
was  by  no  means  exclusively  confined  to  this  object. 
He  continued  to  keep  up  his  interest  in  general  read- 
ing, and  frequently  indulged  in  poetical  composition. 
In  the  winter  of  1815,  on  the  conclusion  of  the  Trea- 
ty of  Peace  with  Great  Britain,  he  delivered  a  poem  at 
a  public  celebration  of  the  event,  in  Cambridge,  and,  in 
August,  1816,  the  annual  poem  before  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  Society.  Both  of  these  performances  were  re- 
ceived with  a  good  deal  of  favor  on  their  delivery,  and 
the  former  was  printed. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  93 

He  received  his  certificate  of  approbation  on  the  31st 
July.  1815.  Of  the  state  of  feeling  in  regard  to  his  own 
character,  and  in  regard  also  to  his  profession,  with 
which  he  entered  upon  the  duties  of  that  profession, 
many  parts  of  this  volume  will,  I  trust,  present  sufficient 
evidence.  But  there  is  none  more  satisfactory  than 
that  which  is  contained  in  the  following  paper,  written 
on  his  twenty-first  birth-day,  April  21st,  1S15,  only  a 
few  months  before  he  began  to  preach.  It  was  proba- 
bly seen  by  no  one  during  his  lifetime.  On  the  enve- 
lope was  written, — "  To  be  opened  and  read  for  improve- 
ment* once  a  month." 

"April  21,  1815.  It  has  pleased  my  heavenly  Father  to 
prolong  my  life  to  the  close  of  its  twenty-first  year.  Three- 
score years  and  ten  is  a  long  date  for  the  life  of  a  man  :  how 
few  reach  it,  and  yet  nearly  one  third  of  this  longest  period 
is  already  past.  And,  if  we  calculate  the  length  of  life  from 
the  majority  of  instances,  probably  not  less  than  half  of  mine 
is  now  spent.  In  a  world  of  so  much  uncertainty,  how  can  I 
hope  to  live  yet  another  period  of  twenty  years  ;  for  how  many 
are  continually  falling  around  me  in  the  interval  between 
twenty  and  forty.  How  has  this  large  portion  of  my  allotted 
existence  been  improved  ?  Have  I  fulfilled  the  designs  of  my 
being  ?  Have  I  been  diligent  and  useful  ?  Have  my  privile- 
ges and  opportunities  been  so  employed  as  to  give  bright  pros- 
pects to  the  future,  whether  I  continue  in  the  world  or  quit  it  ? 
With  gratitude  to  God  I  would  acknowledge  his  past  goodness. 
It  has  been  very  great  and  very  undeserved.  Few  young  men 
come  forward  to  the  world  under  so  favorable  auspices. 

"  From  my  very  childhood  I  have  been  allowed  the  leisure 
and  the  means  of  cultivating  my  mind,  and  preparing  to  move 
in  the  higher  walks  of  usefulness  and  respectability.  My 
parents  were  pious,  virtuous,  and  faithful ;  they  early  instilled 


0-1  LIFE    OP    HENRY    WABE,    JR. 

into  me  the  good  principles  of  religion  and  virtue,  the  fear  and 
love  of  God,  and  set  themselves  an  example  of  all  that  is  good 
and  excellent.  It  pleased  God,  indeed,  early  to  remove  my 
beloved  mother,  and  I  have  no  distinct  knowledge,  but  a  gen- 
eral and  pleasant  impression  of  her  virtues.  The  love  I  then 
bore  her  has  left  a  savor  in  my  heart.  My  father  has  been 
kindly  spared  until  I  am  able  to  appreciate  his  worth,  and 
derive  the  highest  advantage  from  his  experience,  and  exam- 
ple, and  instruction.  Under  his  eye,  influenced  by  all  the 
motives  which  the  presence  of  a  loved  parent  can  inspire,  I 
have  passed  the  term  of  collegiate  education,  and  learned  that 
God  has  intrusted  me  with  talents,  which  may  make  me 
respectable  and  useful,  and  which  I  am  not  to  suffer  to  lie  inac- 
tive and  unoccupied.  I  bless  him  for  them;  and  pray  that  I 
may  feel  the  obligation  they  impose  of  greater  vigilance  and 
virtue,  than  belongs  to  those  who  have  been  less  favored.  I 
have  also  had  given  me  two  years  of  happiness  and  improve- 
ment in  the  fine  circle  of  Exeter.  I  had  there  much  to  be 
thankful  for,  and  have  only  to  regret  my  impatience  for  a 
change  of  scene  ;  for  I  was  in  a  most  favorable  situation  for 
the  improvement  of  social  and  benevolent  feeling,  and  the  cul- 
tivation of  my  moral  and  religious  affections.  I  look  back 
upon  this  time  as  a  period  of  great  progress  in  my  Christian 
course.  But  the  warmth  and  zeal  of  those  days  have  faded 
away  into  colder  and  more  indifferent  feelings  since  my  return 
to  Cambridge,  although  I  have  great  cause  for  gratitude  in  my 
opportunities  of  study  and  improvement. 

"  Here,  then,  in  this  short  retrospect,  are  crowded  how  many 
reasons  of  praise  to  Almighty  goodness !  How  many  invalu- 
able opportunities  and  privileges  !  What  precious  blessings  in 
the  past,  what  high  and  sublime  hopes  for  the  future  !  But 
how  poorly  have  I  improved  them !  My  exertions  in  duty 
have  Iron  wavering  and  unequal,  my  resolutions  of  virtue 
have  been  feeble  and  soon  broken  ;  I  have  suffered  my  con- 
science to  be  hardened,  to  be  sluggish  and  slow  to  give  warn- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  95 

ing,  and  have  allowed  my  passions  or  a  momentary  interest  to 
make  me  deaf  to  its  suggestions.  Hence  I  have  in  some  great 
degree  lost  that  quick  perception  and  high  sense  of  duty,  which 
all  ought  to  cherish,  and  without  which  a  man  can  neither  be 
eminent  nor  virtuous.  This,  I  think,  is  my  great  failing, 
indifference,  indolence,  apathy,  insensibility  to  motives  ;  hence 
a  decay  of  religious  affection,  of  piety  and  thoughtfulness.  I 
do  not  forget  God,  but  I  allow  myself  to  neglect  him  ;  I  do  not 
shun  duties,  but  I  perform  them  sluggishly.  Hence  I  surfer 
time  to  be  wasted,  and  opportunities  to  pass  unimproved. 
This  indolence  also  has  extended  to  my  body.  I  have  dreaded 
exercise  and  indulged  in  sloth  till  my  health  suffers,  and  this 
renders  me  unable,  as  well  as  indisposed,  to  study.  The  same 
indecision  and  love  of  ease  have  led  me  to  an  indulgence  of 
appetite  ;  I  practise  no  self-denial  ;  temperance,  although  I  fre- 
quently resolve  it,  is  not  one  of  my  virtues.  This  indulgence 
again  acts  on  my  mind,  increases  sloth,  and  weakens  the 
motives  to  vigorous  and  careful  living.  I  have  learnt  to  muse 
of  virtue  instead  of  practising  it,  to  be  satisfied  with  loving 
goodness,  and  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  I  shall  be  good, 
without  being  so,  i.  e.  without  being  so  to  the  degree  and 
extent  that  I  conceive  a  Christian  minister  should  be.  For  ] 
will  not,  from  false  or  pretended  humility,  say  that  I  am  the 
vilest  of  sinners ;  I  know  I  am  not,  though  a  very  great  one, 
one  who  has  hope  only  in  the  mercy  of  God.  But,  instead  of 
that  progress  and  continual  improvement,  that  reaching  forward 
to  great  things,  that  aspiring  to  perfection,  which  Christianity 
requires,  and  St.  Paul  so  vehemently  urges,  I  lament  before 
God  that  I  feel  myself  depreciating.  O  Father,  most  gracious 
and  merciful,  pity  and  forgive  me  !  Help  me  to  reform,  and 
to  live  a  life  acceptable  to  thee  through  Jesus  Christ  thy  Son  ! 
I  would  have  more  ardor,  and  vigor,  and  perseverance,  and 
approve  myself  worthy  of  my  high  vocation  ;  more  readiness 
to  hear  the  call  of  duty,  and  more  alacrity  in  obeying  it.  I 
would  feel  more  constantly  and  sensibly  the  obligations  my 


96  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

situation  imposes  on  me  ;  the  motives  which  should  urge  me ; 
I  desire  to  waste  less  time,  and  become  more  faithful  and  stu- 
dious. I  have  undertaken  the  gospel  ministry.  I  feel  it  to 
be  a  station  of  labor  and  responsibility ;  no  common  exertions 
will  enable  me  so  to  qualify  myself,  that  I  can  discharge  its 
duties  with  perfect  satisfaction,  or  answer  the  demands  of  my 
conscience,  my  friends,  or  my  God. 

"  I  am  sensible  that  my  father  and  friends  look  upon  me 
with  anxiety  and  much  hope ;  and  shall  I  indulge  my  indo- 
lent habits  and  disappoint  them  ?  Shall  my  great  opportuni- 
ties and  privileges  be  wasted,  and  all  that  God  and  men  have 
done  for  me  come  to  nought  ?  O  !  I  feel  that  I  have  grown 
hardened  ;  I  am  not  easily  moved  as  I  once  was ;  I  am  asleep 
to  strong  motives,  sunk  in  a  lethargic  calm  ;  I  pray  that  I  may 
be  awakened.  I  will  endeavor,  I  will  make  an  effort,  and, 
strong  in  the  Lord  and  in  the  power  of  his  might,  regain  those 
feelings  and  habits  I  once  possessed ;  that  feeling  of  piety ; 
that  lively  sense  of  duty ;  that  self-government  and  those  stu- 
dious habits,  which  I  have  lost,  and  which  must  be  recovered 
or  I  fall.  My  situation  has  peculiar  temptations  to  distract 
my  attention  and  break  fixed  habits ;  to  these  I  have  yielded 
instead  of  resisting  them.     Now  they  must  be  overcome. 

"  Since  the  winter  vacation  I  have  accomplished  scarcely 
anything  of  study ;  the  time  has  almost  been  wasted,  and, 
instead  of  improving,  I  am  afraid  I  have  grown  worse  in  both 
my  religious  and  literary  character.  Indeed,  my  health  has 
been  bad  ;  perhaps  my  complaints  are  the  beginning  of  a  dis- 
ease which  may  end  fatally.  I  pray  that  I  may  be  prepared 
for  any  event,  and  equally  glorify  God  in  my  life  or  my  death. 
If  God  please,  I  would  that  my  days  might  be  prolonged ;  for 
,  I  earnestly  desire  to  be  better  prepared,  and  to  be  the  instru- 
ment of  some  good  in  the  world  ere  I  leave  it.  I  wish  I  might 
not  merely  pass  over  a  few  years  of  time,  and  leave  no  trace 
of  good  ;  but  I  would  do  something  for  the  cause  of  virtue  and 
the  happiness  of  man  ;  so  that,  when  I  shall  be  called  to  another 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  97 

state,  1  may  meet  with  some  who  shall  greet  me  with  love  and 
gratitude,  and  may  receive  the  approbation  of  my  Saviour  and 
my  God. 

"  But,  great  God,  thy  will  be  done.  I  am  in  thy  hands; 
may  I  acquiesce  in  thine  appointments.  Whatever  time  thou 
shalt  allot  me,  may  I  well  improve  it,  and  cultivate  the  powers 
thou  hast  given  me.  May  I  ever  fix  my  eye  upon  thee  and 
upon  duty,  and,  through  thy  grace  in  Jesus  Christ,  my  Lord, 
become  such  as  thou  wilt  delight  to  own  and  to  bless.  O,  for- 
give my  past  follies ;  help  me  in  time  to  come  ;  delight  to  bless 
me ;  and  finally  grant  me  to  see  thy  presence  and  glory  in 
peace,  through  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  thy  love,  the  Saviour 
of  men." 

But  with  all  such  sober  views,  there  was  still  nothing 
gloomy  or  distrustful  in  his  habitual  state  of  mind. 
He  was  constitutionally  cheerful,  even  when  laboring 
under  considerable  indisposition,  and  looked  on  life  with 
much  of  hope  for  the  future,  as  well  as  of  gratitude  for 
the  past.     In  a  letter  written  about  this  time  he  says  : 

"  1  am  not  one  of  those  who  look  only  at  the  dark  side.  I 
think  the  world  has  a  great  deal  more  happiness  than  misery 
in  it ;  and  that,  upon  the  whole,  life  is  a  very  good  thing.  For 
my  own  part,  at  least,  I  have  infinitely  more  reason  to  rejoice 
with  gratitude,  than  to  complain  ;  and  I  cannot  help  some- 
times thinking,  that  some  of  those  who  so  bitterly  complain  of 
the  evils  and  burdens  of  this  world,  will  have  reason  to  think 
it  a  very  tolerable  one  when  they  have  seen  another.  I  think 
that  with  a  contented  disposition,  if  a  man  will  resolve  to  be 
cheerful,  he  may  always  be  pretty  happy ;  this  is  one  of  the 
first  requisites." 

The  two  following  extracts  from  other  letters  of  this 
period  serve  also  to  illustrate  the  nature  of  his  views  and 
9 


98  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

the  condition  of  his  mind.  The  first  was  written  to  a 
friend,  in  relation  to  some  criticisms  upon  the  preaching 
of  a  young  clergyman ;  the  second  to  a  brother,  who 
was  about  beginning  the  study  of  divinity. 

"  April,  1815. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  find  you  speak  as  you  do  of  his  preaching. 
You  may  be  correct ;  but  I  cannot  help  thinking,  that  he  must 
yet  make  considerable  progress.  His  mind  certainly  has  not 
reached  its  full  maturity;  and,  while  its  powers  ripen,  I  see  no 
reason  why  his  skill  in  using  them  should  not  improve.  I  am 
sorry  if  his  manner  is  so  uniformly  delicate  and  polished.  I 
like  some  roughness ;  I  should  learn  to  sleep,  if  my  minister 
wrere  never  venturesome,  and  never  hazarded  a  bold  idea  or 
expression.  I  like  to  be  roused  and  interested  in  different 
ways  at  different  times.  But  I  think  you  claim  too  much, 
when  you  demand  from  a  preacher  great  talents  and  scholar- 
ship, and  fertility  and  originality,  at  once  ;  we  should  not  thus 
have  more  than  two  in  a  century.  A  very  moderate  degree  of 
each  is  sufficient.  I  set  a  less  value  on  his  public  duties  as 
orator  and  instructor  than  most  people  do,  and  more  on  his 
private  duties.  It  is  in  the  last,  that  he  has  most  real  religious 
influence ;  and  it  is  from  his  performance  of  them,  that  most 
of  his  people  will  form  their  opinion,  and  learn  to  love  or 
despise  him.  So  that  a  man  of  good  feelings,  amiable  dis- 
position, &c,  may  have  great  influence  and  be  an  excellent 
pastor,  though  his  sermons  display  very  little  erudition  or 
talent.  It  is  necessary,  indeed,  that  there  should  be  some 
great  men  to  preserve  the  grandeur  and  respectability  of  the 
Christian  institution;  but  these  may  be  fewT,  and  I  think  are 
comparatively  of  little  importance." 

"  Above  all  things,  do  not  be  led  into  our  profession  by  the 
idea  that  your  success  in  life  will  be  easiest.  I  think  this 
motive  ought  not  to  have  influence  in  choosing  it.  The 
motives  ought  to  be  religious  ones ;  and  I  should  esteem  it  a 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  99 

profanation  to  preach  heavenly  truths  merely  for  the  sake  of 
this  ivorld's  goods.  For  my  own  part,  I  never  would  have 
entered  it,  unless  I  had  preferred  it  altogether  beyond  all  others. 
Conscience  ought  to  have  more  concern  than  anything  else,  in 
embracing  it." 

The  following  passage  from  a  letter  of  a  somewhat 
later  date,  to  the  same  brother,  shows  how  much  he  was 
awake  to  the  dangers  of  his  office,  as  well  as  to  its 
duties  and  difficulties. 

"  Dear  W.,  while  we  preach  of  time  and  eternity  to  others, 
do  not  let  us  become  hardened  to  the  impression  ourselves. 
No  men  are  in  greater  danger  than  we,  of  being  without  reli- 
gious sentiment.  Here  lies  our  danger,  and  here  must  our 
guard  be  placed." 

Some  time  elapsed,  it  does  not  appear  why,  between 
his  receiving  a  certificate  of  approbation  and  his  be- 
ginning to  preach.  He  did  not  appear  in  public  till  the 
8th  of  October,  1S15,  more  than  two  months  from  the 
date  of  his  examination.  He  made  his  first  essay  at 
West  Cambridge,  in  the  pulpit  of  the  Rev.  Thaddeus 
Fisk,  a  classmate,  friend,  and  brother-in-law  of  his 
father.  On  the  22d  of  October  he  preached,  for  the 
second  time,  at  Cambridgeport,  and  afterward,  with  but 
one  exception,  on  every  Sabbath,  till  he  was  ordained. 
In  the  next  February  he  was  employed  four  Sabbaths 
at  the  Second  Church  in  Boston,  left  vacant  the  pre- 
ceding year  by  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lathrop ;  in 
April,  four  at  Lexington ;  in  May,  four  at  the  Church 
in  Brattle  Square,  Boston ;  and,  in  September,  three  at 
Charlestown.  These  were  the  only  vacant  parishes  in 
which  he  preached  as  a  candidate  for  settlement. 


100  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.     JR. 

His  preaching  attracted  at  first  no  particular  attention, 
and  made  no  strong  impression.  Expectation  had  not 
been  excited  with  regard  to  him,  either  on  the  part  of 
his  friends,  or  of  the  public.  To  the  public,  indeed,  he 
was  almost  wholly  unknown;  for,  although  he  had 
always  been  respected  as  a  scholar,  writer,  and  speaker, 
and  though  the  excellence  of  his  character,  and  the 
soundness  of  his  views  of  his  profession,  led  those  who 
knew  him  to  expect  an  acceptable  and  useful  teacher  of 
religion,  yet  there  had  been  nothing  brilliant  in  his  pre- 
vious course  to  make  him  the  object  of  particular  regard. 
There  had  been  nothing  to  point  him  out  as  a  man 
destined  to  popularity  or  eminence.  He  did  not  himself 
look  for  great  success  ;  and  his  reputation  as  a  preacher 
was  so  slow  in  its  growth,  and  stole  upon  him  in  so 
gradual  a  manner,  that  it  came  to  him  at  last  as  a  sort 
of  discovery,  to  his  own  surprise,  and,  as  to  the  degree 
of  it,  indeed,  to  the  surprise  of  many  of  his  friends. 

There  is  no  doubt  an  advantage  in  beginning  with 
such  moderate  success.  A  young  person  can  hardly 
enter  upon  life  with  any  circumstance  so  unfavorable 
to  his  ultimate  reputation  and  usefulness,  as  highly 
raised  expectations.  Many  a  worthy  man  has  broken 
down  under  the  burden  of  a  reputation  in  advance. 
He  must  have  more  than  ordinary  qualities,  who  can 
survive  it.  It  is  better  the  world  should  wonder  that  it 
has  not  heard  of  a  new  candidate  for  its  attention  before, 
than  that  it  should  wonder  why  it  has  heard  so  much. 

Mr.  Amos  Lawrence,  a  warm  friend  to  him  through 
life,  in  a  letter  written  to  Mrs.  Ware  since  the  death  of 
her  husband,  gives  the  following  account  of  his  first 
appearance  in  a  Boston  pulpit,  on  the  5th  of  January, 
1816,  and  of  the  impression  which  he  then  made. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  101 

"  The  first  time  I  ever  saw  your  husband,  was  at  a  Friday 
Lecture,  in  Brattle  Square  Church,  and  the  first  time  he  ever 
preached  in  Boston.  He  was  so  agitated  as  to  make  me  feel 
deep  sympathy  and  pity  for  him,  in  the  commencement  of  his 
services ;  but  very  soon  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten  himself, 
and  to  be  thinking  only  of  his  Master  and  the  work  he  was  to 
perform.  The  unction  and  spirit,  in  which  the  services  were 
continued  and  closed,  led  me  to  ask,  with  many  others,  '  Who 
is  this  young  man?'  and  from  that  time  forward,  I  cherished 
his  acquaintance,  honored  his  character,  the  more  I  became 
acquainted  with  him,  and  loved  him  as  a  friend." 

The  comparatively  slight  impression,  which  his  ear- 
ly efforts  made  upon  the  public,  is  strikingly  shown  by 
the  fact,  that  a  long  interval  elapsed  between  his  first 
and  second  engagements  to  preach  in  the  church  of 
which  he  afterwards  became  the  pastor.  As  already 
mentioned,  he  preached  at  the  Second  Church  in  Boston 
as  early  as  February,  1816.  This  Society  afterwards 
heard  a  number  of  other  candidates,  and  he  was  not 
invited  a  second  time  till  the  following  October.  An 
invitation  to  become  their  minister  followed  immediately 
upon  the  conclusion  of  the  second  engagement ;  but  the 
vote  to  give  this  invitation,  though  a  decided,  was  far 
from  a  unanimous  one.  Of  forty-six  votes  he  received 
but  thirty-six ;  the  rest  being  given  for  his  friend,  Mr. 
Thomas  Prentiss,  afterwards  ordained  at  Charlestown. 
Still,  the  opponents  of  his  election,  though  preferring 
another,  were  not  unfriendly  to  him ;  and  many  of  them 
became  subsequently  the  warmest  of  his  supporters. 

This  invitation  was  given  on  the  17th  of  November, 

1816,  and  was  answered  in  the  affirmative  on  the  30th 

of  the  same  month.     The  ordination  took  place  on  the 

first  day  of  the  ensuing  year.     The  council  on  this 

9* 


102  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

occasion  was  composed  of  the  following  ministers ; 
Messrs.  Holley,  Channing,  Frothingham,  Lowell,  and 
Parkman,  of  Boston,  with  delegates  from  the  New  South 
and  Brattle  Square  Churches,  which  were  destitute  of 
pastors;  Drs.  Kirkland  and  Ware,  of  the  University 
Church,  Dr.  Holmes  of  Cambridge,  Dr.  Fisk  of  West 
Cambridge,  Dr.  Allyn  of  Duxbury,  Mr.  Tuckerman  of 
Chelsea,  and  Mr.  Colman  of  Hingham.  The  sermon 
was  preached  by  the  father  of  the  candidate ;  the  prayer 
of  ordination  offered  by  Dr.  Fisk;  the  charge  given  by 
Dr.  Allyn,  and  the  right  hand  of  fellowship  by  Mr.  Park- 
man.  The  day  of  his  ordination  was  one  which  could 
never  be  forgotten  by  any  of  those,  whose  interest  in  the 
occasion,  or  in  the  person,  was  such  as  to  lead  them 
to  associate  the  aspect  of  the  season  with  the  services 
in  which  they  were  engaged.  The  sun  was  bright,  the 
sky  clear  and  brilliant ;  and,  although  in  the  very  midst 
of  winter,  the  air  was  so  soft  and  mild  as  to  remind  one 
of  the  finest  weather  of  our  early  summer.  It  almost 
seemed  to  many,  who  were  most  deeply  interested  in  the 
event,  as  if,  through  the  smiling  face  of  nature,  Provi- 
dence were  indeed  bestowing  its  blessing  upon  a  con- 
nexion destined  to  be  so  happy  in  its  results  to  all  par- 
ties. Very  often  have  those  who  sat  under  his  ministry 
referred  in  after  times  to  the  remarkable  character  of 
the  day,  as  if  there  had  been  something  in  it  prophetical 
of  the  many  prosperous  years  which  were  to  follow. 

The  Society,  over  which  Mr.  Ware  was  ordained, 
was  at  this  time  the  smallest  in  point  of  numbers,  and 
probably  the  least  opulent,  of  the  Unitarian  congrega- 
tions in  Boston.  ^ 

*  This  was  indicated  by  the  small  amount  of  salary  which  was  at  first  paid, 
viz.,  twenty-five  dollars  a  week,  and  wood,  not  exceeding  thirty  cords  a  year. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  103 

To  use  the  words  of  his  successor  in  the  ministry, — 

"  The  day  of  the  consecration  of  this  sacred  tie  will  ever  be 
a  memorable  era  in  the  history  of  this  ancient  church.  For 
several  previous  years,  owing,  amongst  other  unfavorable  cir- 
cumstances, in  part  to  the  age  and  infirmities  of  Dr.  Lathrop, 
this  Society  had  suffered  a  material  diminution  of  numbers 
and  vitality.  But  God  had  henceforth  in  store  for  it  better 
things  than  even  the  glowing  anticipations  of  the  new  preach- 
er's most  sanguine  friends  ventured  to  predict.  Entering  upon 
his  arduous  work  with  no  startling  exhibitions  of  eloquence  or 
zeal,  with  no  straining  for  sudden  effect,  but  with  a  devoted 
purpose  to  be  laborious  and  faithful,  and  a  single  eye  to  the 
sacred  objects  of  the  ministry,  the  first  fruits  of  his  well-sus- 
tained efforts  gradually  and  steadily  ripened  around  him.  The 
spiritual  and  external  interests  of  the  parish  advanced  with  a 
regular  and  healthy  growth.  Another  golden  age,  like  that 
which  it  had  enjoyed  under  the  first  of  the  Mathers,  dawned 
upon  the  prospects  of  the  church.  The  throng  of  worshippers 
swelled  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath.  The  influence  of  the  pulpit 
became  more  powerful  and  deep.  Its  invitations  to  holiness 
became  more  persuasive ;  its  calls  to  duty  more  stirring ;  its 
appeals  to  the  conscience  more  pungent ;  its  discourses  to  the 
understanding  more  convincing ;  its  addresses  to  the  affections 
more  constraining."  "  There  were  more  splendid  edifices 
than  these  old  walls.  There  were  more  wealthy  and  fashion- 
able and  highly  cultivated  congregations,  than  that  which 
gathered  around  him  with  attentive  faces  and  captivated  hearts. 
There  were  more  graceful  rhetoricians  and  more  learned  theo- 
logians occupying  the  sacred  desk.  But  where  was  there  a 
temple  more  fragrant  with  the  breath  of  devotion,  more  beauti- 
ful with  the  spiritual  adornings  of  holiness  and  peace  ?  Where 
was  there  a  Society  more  harmonious  or  more  engaged  ?    And 

This  was  afterwards  increased  to  Si 800  per  annum  ;  and,  from  time  to  time, 
several  grants  were  made  to  him  by  distinct  votes  of  the  Society. 


104  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,  JR. 

where  was  the  preacher,  whose  whole  air,  and  action,  and  tones, 
were  more  suited  to  the  messages  of  Heaven,  whose  discourses 
and  whose  prayers  had  more  power  of  moral  and  spiritual 
effect?"* 

There  were  many  circumstances  in  his  new  situation 
which  made  it  a  peculiarly  desirable  and  happy  one  for 
him.  Boston  has  always  been  distinguished,  at  once 
for  the  high  character  of  its  clergymen,  and  for  the 
great  respect  in  which  they  have  been  held  by  the  com- 
munity in  which  they  lived.  A  place  here  has  therefore 
been  always  looked  upon  as  a  most  fortunate  allotment. 
Here  also  he  was  surrounded,  both  in  the  town  and 
in  its  immediate  neighborhood,  by  a  large  number  of 
his  brethren  of  the  same  religious  sentiments  with  him- 
self, with  whom  he  could  take  counsel,  and  on  whose 
support  he  could  depend.  Then  he  was  to  reside  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  places  of  his  birth  and  educa- 
tion, and  in  constant  connexion  with  all  the  members 
of  his  family.  Besides  all  these  advantages,  he  found 
in  the  character  of  the  parish  itself  a  source  of  satisfac- 
tion. It  was  composed  chiefly  of  individuals  of  the 
middle  portion  of  society ;  neither  the  very  poor,  nor  the 
very  rich ;  neither  the  very  ignorant,  nor  the  highly  cul- 
tivated; the  kind  of  people  whom  he  supposed  to  be 
most  likely  to  listen  readily  and  with  profit  to  his 
preaching.  He  was  not  ambitious  of  being  the  minister 
of  a  Society  composed  of  persons  of  what  are  called  the 
higher  classes,— the  rich,  the  fashionable,  the  refined, 
the  intellectual.  He  was  diffident  of  his  ability  to  come 
up  to  their  standard  of  preaching,  or  of  adapting  him- 
self to  their  spiritual  wants.     His  subsequent  progress 

*"  Sermon   on   the   Death   of  the   Rev.  Henry  Ware,  Jr.     By   the   Rev. 
Chandler  Bobbins." 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  105 

shows,  that  he  undervalued  his  capacity,  and  that  he 
was  capable  of  producing  right  religious  impressions 
upon  one  class  as  well  as  upon  another.  But  this  feel- 
ing of  distrust,  before  he  had  made  trial  of  his  powers, 
was  not  unnatural.  The  following  letters  to  several 
persons,  though  somewhat  various  in  their  subjects,  dis- 
play very  well  the  state  of  mind,  on  this  and  many 
other  points,  with  which  he  entered  on  his  new  duties. 

to  the  rev.  j.  e.  abbot. 

11  Jan.  1817. 
11  Dear  Abbot, 

"  I  was  glad  to  receive  your  note  proposing  an  alteration  of 
our  arrangement,  for  I  shall  very  much  prefer  making  the 
exchange  on  the  third  Sabbath  of  February.  I  depend  upon 
seeing  you,  if  possible,  when  in  town  next  week.  I  take  this 
opportunity  to  tell  you  how  perfectly  happy  I  have  the  prospect 
of  being,  here.  The  situation  seems  exactly  suited  to  my 
wishes  and  habits.  I  say  this,  because  you  may  recollect  I 
was  rather  backward  in  answering  your  remark  the  other  day, 
that  this  was  to  be  preferred  to  any  other  parish  in  town.  I 
really  think  it  is ;  but  I  have  been  sometimes  a  little  mortified 
to  be  spoken  to  about  it,  as  if  I  was  disappointed  at  not  being 
invited  to .  People  have  very  kindly  made  compar- 
isons to  me,  demonstrating  that  that  was  not  a  very  desirable 
place.  Now  I  can  say  to  you,  though  1  could  not  to  every  one, 
that  I  am,  and  have  been,  of  the  same  opinion  ;  yet,  when  folks 
talk  in  this  way  to  me,  I  must  hold  my  peace ;  for,  if  I  say 
what  I  think,  I  shall  be  thought  to  be  crying,  ■  Sour  grapes.' 
I  feel  myself  now  among  my  equals ;  there  is  no  restraint  on 
my  feelings  and  my  intercourse  wTith  my  people ;  indeed,  I 
have  every  reason  for  gratitude  that  my  lot  is  so  pleasantly 
cast,  and  have  only  to  pray  that  I  may  be  faithful ;  and  may 
you  and  I,  my  dear  Abbot,  go  pleasantly  through  a  longer 


106  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

ministry  than  was  permitted  some  of  our  brethren,  and  yet  not 
be  so  happy,  as  to  receive  the  gTeater  part  of  our  reward  in 
this  world." 

•  Feb.  2,  1817. 
"As  for  my  situation,  it  appears  to  be  everything  I  could 
wish.  I  have  every  prospect  of  being  happy  and  useful.  My 
people  are  all  in  the  middling  class,  many  families  exceedingly 
pleasant,  all  united  and  very  cordial  towards  me.  Indeed,  I 
am  afraid  only  of  being  too  happy.  ■  We  should  suspect  some 
danger  near,  when  we  possess  delight;'  so  singeth  Watts,  and 
with  some  truth.  It  is  of  no  use,  to  be  sure,  to  be  looking  out 
for  storms  when  the  sky  is  clear ;  yet,  I  confess,  I  look  with 
trembling  sometimes  on  the  perfect  freedom  I  enjoy  from 
everything  unpleasant  or  trying.  It  is  dangerous  to  have 
every  wish  gratified,  and  more  than  gratified." 

"  1817. 

"  Don't  take  these  hints  hardly  ;  you  know  I  mean  well.  I 
have  been  led  to  think  of  such  things  by  my  late  visits  in  my 
parish,  where,  seeing  so  many  in  quick  succession,  I  have  an 
opportunity  of  comparing  the  manners  of  different  people,  and 
of  noticing  their  effects  on  myself.  For  the  most  part,  I  have 
been  welcomed  with  an  ease  and  cordiality  most  gratifying ; 
cheerful,  smiling  faces,  and  an  extended,  eager  hand,  have 
greeted  me  at  my  entrance.  In  such  cases  the  impression  is 
always  favorable.  In  others,  however,  I  have  been  accosted 
as  we  accost  strangers  and  others  at  our  house, — no  advancing, 
no  welcome  in  loud  words,  no  smile,  no  outstretched  hand.  I 
have  been  chilled,  and  yet  I  have  had  no  reason  to  believe 
there  was  not  as  much  warmth  and  cordiality  at  bottom.  I 
have  in  this  way  learnt  to  behave  myself  better,  and  have  no 
doubt  my  demeanor  is  very  much  better  than  it  was  a  month 
ago. 

"  I  am  so  used  to  writing  sermons,  that  I  have  prosed  away 
here  most  unconscionably.     Let  me  now  talk,  if  I  can  ;  and, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JU.  107 


first  of  all,  let  me  tell  you  how  happy  I  am ;  too  happy,  I  am 
afraid.  I  seem  to  have  come  into  exactly  the  spot  for  wThich  I 
am  suited,  and  among  exactly  the  people  with  whom  I  can  be 
happy.  And  from  all  I  can  learn,  directly  and  indirectly,  they 
are  inclined  to  an  affection  toward  me  greater  than  I  could 
hope.     I  have  only  to  pray  for  strength  to  do  my  duty." 

"  1817. 

"  The  duty  of  commemorating  our  Lord  in  the  Supper,  I 
think  we  are  not  enough  apt  to  consider  in  the  simple  and 
abstract  light  of  a  duty  which  we  must  perform,  and  for 
the  neglect  of  which  there  can  be  no  more  reasonable  excuse, 
than  for  the  neglect  of  prayer,  or  of  the  duties  of  social  life. 
We  always  think  more  of  it  than  we  ought,  in  connexion  with 
other  circumstances  and  events,  so  as  to  be  influenced  by  these 
quite  as  much  as  by  the  sense  of  duty;  this  often  occasions 
embarrassment,  when,  by  attending  merely  to  the  latter  cir- 
cumstance, our  path  would  be  very  easy.  This,  to  be  sure,  is 
too  much  the  case  in  everything  ;  but  I  have  found  it  particu- 
larly so  here,  and  am  myself  very  prone  so  to  speak  of  it  in 
my  conversation.  I  feel  that  this  is  wrong.  We  ought  to 
remember  it  is  a  requirement  of  us  as  Christians,  a  simple  tes- 
timonial of  our  faith  in  the  greatest  thing  the  Deity  has  done 
for  man,  and  a  token  of  regard  and  gratitude,  and  pledge  of 
love,  to  the  best  friend  of  our  race.  If  Jesus  has  indeed  done 
all  that  we  believe,  we  cannot  easily  excuse  ourselves  for  neg- 
lecting to  acknowledge  it ;  we  shall  almost  feel  a  spontaneous 
desire  to  do  it ;  and,  as  he  has  prescribed  a  method  in  which  it 
should  be  done,  it  is  nothing  more  than  obedience  to  the  hu- 
man feeling  of  gratitude,  and  the  command  of  our  Sovereign 
at  the  same  time,  to  come  to  his  table  in  his  name.  We  have 
already  in  our  own  bosoms  felt  and  acknowledged  the  claims 
and  obligations  of  the  Gospel;  these  claims  and  obligations 
cannot  be  greater  after  our  professing  them,  than  they  are 
before.     This,  I  think,  is  the  proper  way  of  considering  the 


108  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

subject ;  nothing  can  be  more  simple,  and  nothing  approves 
itself  more  readily  to  a  rational  mind,  even  if  it  were  not  a 
prescribed  duty. 

"  Then,  again,  if  we  consider  the  ordinance  in  the  light  of 
an  exercise  of  our  pious  feelings  ;  and  consider  how  naturally 
this  contemplating  the  life,  instructions,  death  and  promises  of 
Jesus  Christ,  has  a  tendency  to  strengthen  these  feelings,  and 
increase  our  faith  in  his  gospel,  and  make  it  dearer  to  us,  by 
calling  up  to  our  thoughts  his  character,  and  the  imitation  of 
it  he  requires  in  us,— to  lead  us  to  a  resemblance  of  him  in 
his  meekness,  purity,  benevolence,  amiableness,  and  other 
traits,  which  make  him  the  most  delightful  of  all  characters 
we  can  contemplate  ;— I  say,  if  we  consider  its  operation  as  a 
means  to  effect  all  this,  we  shall  see  its  value  more  clearly, 
and  be  more  desirous  of  putting  ourselves  within  its  influence. 
It  undoubtedly  has  a  great  effect  in  cherishing  piety  and  benev- 
olence, not  necessarily  and  miraculously,  but  by  its  natural 
influence  over  those  who  seriously  attend  it.  These  are  my 
views  on  the  subject ;  I  believe  you  will  fall  in  with  them,  and, 
if  you  do,  you  will,  I  doubt  not,  (and  that  you  may,  you  have 
my  earnest  prayers,)  experience  a  good  deal  of  satisfaction  in 
the  performance  of  the  duty.  Many  laugh  at  it,  and  at  us, 
because  they  imagine  we  attribute  to  it  some  mysterious, 
supernatural,  sanctifying  efficacy.  We  attribute  to  it  no  such 
thing;  we  believe  nothing  concerning  it, — Jesus  Christ  and 
the  Apostles  have  taught  us  to  believe  nothing  concerning  it, 
— but  what  is  perfectly  reasonable  and  agreeable  to  all  we 
know  of  the  operation  of  things  and  events  upon  our  feelings 
and  characters  in  the  usual  administration  of  the  government 
of  Providence.  Those  who  sneer  at  us,  as  practising  an  un- 
meaning and  superstitious  form,  know  nothing  of  what  we  do, 
and  have  mistaken  the  ravings  of  some  half-crazy  enthusiasts 
for  the  doctrine  of  the  New  Testament." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

HIS     VIEWS     OF    PASTORAL    DUTY  —  VARIOUS     LABORS — HIS    MARRIAGE 

AND     PLACE     OF    RESIDENCE  —  DEATH     OF     MR.    THOMAS    PRENTISS 

SICKNESS    AND    DEATH    OF    MR.    JOHN    E.   ABBOT. 

1817-1818.     JET.  23-24. 

He  began  his  ministry  full  of  plans  for  usefulness, 
and  eager  in  the  search  of  means  for  improving  the  reli- 
gious character  of  those  who  were  placed  under  his 
charge.  Among  his  earliest  duties,  as  he  conceived, 
was  to  form  a  personal  acquaintance  with  all  the  mem- 
bers of  his  parish  and  their  families ;  to  learn  their  con- 
dition, to  interest  himself  in  their  affairs,  and  especially 
in  their  children.  He  considered  it  as  very  important 
not  only  to  form,  but  to  keep  up  this  acquaintance  by 
an  intimate  and  sufficiently  frequent  intercourse.  He 
had  a  decided  opinion  of  the  value  of  this  relation  of  a 
clergyman  to  his  people.  He  felt  that  it  gave  him  a 
hold  on  their  minds,  which  imparted  double  force  to  the 
instructions  of  the  pulpit.  He  thought  that  he  ought 
to  be  so  familiar  with  them,  and  with  their  characters 
and  concerns,  that  he  should  be  regarded  by  them  as  a 
friend,  who  rejoiced  with  them  when  they  rejoiced,  and 
mourned  with  them  when  they  mourned.  He  well 
knew  that  the  same  teaching  on  the  Sabbath,  which 
would  fall  powerless  from  the  lips  of  a  stranger,  would 
enter  deeply  into  hearts  that  were  warmed  and  opened 
10 


110  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

to  the  speaker  by  the  holy  sympathies  of  a  personal 
Christian  intercourse.  No  doubt  the  constant  pressure 
of  other  occupations,  the  great  variety  of  calls  which 
were  made  on  his  time  and  attention,  both  in  and  out 
of  his  parish,  and  the  very  uncertain  and  languid  state 
of  his  health,  which  so  often  made  the  requisite  bodily 
exertion  a  great  effort  prevented  him  from  acting  up  to 
his  intentions  in  this  particular,  and  from  accomplishing 
what  he  regarded  as  the  full  measure  of  his  duty.  He 
often  felt  and  expressed  something  like  self-reproach  at 
what  he  feared  had  been  his  remissness  in  this  respect. 
Still,  even  in  the  degree  in  which  he  was  able  to  fol- 
low out  his  convictions,  he  found  reason  to  believe  that 
his  personal  intercourse  contributed  very  much  to  his 
usefulness  as  a  minister,  and  to  the  efficacy  of  his 
preaching. 

He  was  especially  attentive  in  times  of  sickness  and 
affliction :  judging  that  at  such  seasons  right  impressions 
are  most  likely  to  be  made,  good  influences  received, 
and  an  interest  excited  in  religion.  But  he  was  not  for- 
ward, in  his  parochial  visits,  (I  speak  from  the  state- 
ments of  a  highly  esteemed  member  of  his  parish,)  to 
introduce  religion  as  a  subject  of  conversation  at  any 
rate  and  as  a  matter  of  course,  without  regard  to  the 
proprieties  of  the  occasion.  "  He  never  was  in  the 
habit  of  forcing  the  conversation  to  take  a  religious 
turn:  but  he  was  ever  ready  to  allow  it  to  do  so."  Reli- 
gious impressions  were  the  indirect,  and  not  the  direct, 
purpose  of  his  familiar  visits.  He  had  no  air  of  formal- 
ity in  the  houses  of  his  parishioners,  or  in  their  sick 
chambers.  He  did  not  talk  much,  or  harangue,  on  sub- 
jects of  consolation,  A  few  words  of  interest  or  of 
comfort,  a  few  sitL^esiions.  in  a  mild  manner  and  a  2en- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  Ill 

tie  tone  of  voice,  were  all  that  he  usually  indulged  in. 
Indeed,  he  felt  great  reluctance  at  the  expression  of  feel- 
ings of  any  intensity ;  and  so  great  was  the  difficulty  in 
bringing  himself  to  it,  that  he  was  sometimes  deterred 
from  visiting,  in  cases  of  very  deep  distress,  from  the 
feeling  of  utter  incapacity  to  express  in  words  anything 
of  that  sympathy  which  he  felt.  The  following  pas- 
sage from  a  letter,  written  at  this  period  to  a  very  dear 
friend,  laboring  under  severe  affliction,  shows  how 
clearly  he  had  detected  the  existence  of  this  peculi- 
arity. 

"  I  want  to  give  you  consolation  ;  yet,  when 

I  am  with  you,  I  have  found  my  lips  sealed.  I  know  not, 
indeed,  whether  this  is  not  best.  If  the  case  were  my  own,  I 
think  I  should  want  no  sympathy  but  that  of  silence.  '  The 
heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,'  and  I  feel  confidence  that 
you,  acquainted  as  you  are  with  sorrow,  will  go  to  the  effect- 
ual sources  of  consolation. 

"  My  father's  dislike  of  ostentation  in  religion  has,  I  fear, 
had  upon  me  an  injurious  effect.  It  has  made  me  silent  on 
the  subject,  backward  to  introduce  it ;  has  made  it  difficult  for 
me  to  speak  of  it  with  warmth,  much  as  I  love  it ;  so  I  often 
am,  and  shall  be,  placed  in  unpleasant  situations  on  this 
account.  It  is,  however,  dislike  of  cant,  as  well  as  of  osten- 
tation; there  is  a  common-place  chit-chat  on  the  subject 
which  is  offensive,  and  from  a  dread  of  that  I  am  apt  to  say 
nothing.  Yet  certainly  the  providence  of  God,  and  a  future 
state,  are  themes  too  elevated  and  glorious  to  be  ashamed  of. 
But  we  feel  as  if  we  could  not  speak  of  them  without  debasing 
them. 

"  It  is  not  wrong  for  you  to  mourn  and  feel  desolate.  I  am 
always  indignant  at  ©ne  who  chides  a  mourner.  Neither  is  it 
wrong  to  cherish  so  dearly  the  memory  of  your  departed 
friends.     If  the  objects  of  our  affection   are  worthy,  then  I 


112  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

think  it  right  to  love  them  warmly.  It  would  not  be  if  death 
separated  us  forever ;  but,  as  virtuous  friendships  commenced 
here  shall  be  continued  and  perfected  hereafter,  why  should 
we  be  forbidden  to  form  them  ?  I  think  I  cannot  love  a  good 
person  too  fervently,  provided  I  love  him  for  his  good  qualities, 
and  can  feel  willing  that  he,  like  everything  else,  should  be  dis- 
posed of  according  to  the  pleasure  of  Heaven.  It  is  true  we 
must  part ;  but  I  believe,  as  God  is  good,  no  virtuous  affection 
or  feeling  can  be  lost ;  and  I  am  sure  nothing  would  tempt  me 
to  love  my  father  less,  so  long  as  I  look  forward  to  the  time 
when  he  shall  be  an  heir  of  glory,  and  I  shall  be  incited  to 
strive  to  be  fit  to  meet  him  in  heaven." 

He  very  well  knew,  that  it  is  upon  the  young  of  his 
congregation,  that  the  minister  is  to  expect  to  produce 
the  most  decided  impression, — especially  when  he  is 
himself  young.  Among  the  first  objects  of  his  attention, 
therefore,  were  services  intended  for  their  special  im- 
provement. Very  early  in  his  ministry  he  became  inter- 
ested in  the  establishment  of  a  Sunday  School  in  the 
northern  section  of  the  town,  and  in  various  other  ways 
engaged  himself  in  the  religious  instruction  of  the  chil- 
dren of  his  own  flock.  One  of  his  exercises  was  intro- 
duced to  those  for  whom  it  was  intended  by  the  fol- 
lowing sketch. 

"  Plan  for  a  Society  among  the  Young  Ladies  of  the 
Second  Church. 
"  There  are  advantages  to  be  derived  from  familiar  conver- 
sation on  religious  subjects  which  cannot  be  derived  from 
public  preaching.  Much  information  may  be  imparted  re- 
specting the  Christian  religion,  and  much  explanation  of  the 
sacred  Scriptures,  in  private  meetings,  which  cannot  well  be 
given  from  the  pulpit.  Devotional  feelings  maybe  excited  and 
cherished  ;  ardor  in  religious  things  promoted  ;  and  we  may 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR.  113 

do  much  to  quicken  one  another  in  the  discipline  of  life,  and 
improve  one  another  in  the  Christian  graces.  We  can  pro- 
voke one  another  to  good  works. 

"  In  order  to  do  this,  I  wish  to  propose  that  some  of  the 
young  ladies  of  the  Society  should  unite  themselves  to  hold 
regular  meetings  for  this  purpose.  What  is  most  to  be  desired 
is  such  a  knowledge  of  the  New  Testament  as  shall  teach  its 
meaning  and  spirit,  lead  us  to  love  to  read  it,  to  understand  it, 
and  to  live  by  it.  Let  the  object  of  the  Society  be,  therefore, 
to  study  the  New  Testament.  We  will  commence  with  one 
book.  Let  the  ladies  make  themselves  familiar  with  a  certain 
portion,  reading  such  books  in  connexion  with  it  as  they  can 
obtain.  We  will  then  read  it  together.  I  will  make  such 
observations  as  may  tend  to  explain  difficult  passages.  We 
will  converse  upon  them,  any  one  asking  questions,  and  mak- 
ing remarks,  with  the  utmost  freedom ;  and  I  will  read  from 
books  observations  on  such  subjects  as  may  be  naturally 
started  in  the  course  of  conversation. 

"  In  some  such  way  as  this,  I  doubt  not  we  may  spend  an 
hour  once  a  fortnight  very  pleasantly,  and  very  properly  ;  and 
I  shall  be  happy  to  be  thus  able  to  acquaint  myself  more  inti- 
mately with  the  young  people  of  my  flock,  and  assist  them  in 
becoming  Christians." 

He  carried  into  effect  a  plan  for  a  regular  meeting  on 
some  evening  of  each  week,  among  the  male  members 
of  his  congregation,  chiefly  the  younger  part  of  them, 
for  social  conversation  anci  discussion  on  religious  sub- 
jects. This  began  by  small  gatherings  at  his  own 
house,  where  there  was  little  formality,  and  the  inter- 
change of  opinions  was  carried  on  in  a  very  familiar 
way.  Afterwards,  as  these  meetings  attracted  more 
notice,  and  the  interest  in  them  increased,  they  were 
held  in  a  room  in  the  upper  storv  of  the  tower  of  the  old 
10* 


114  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

church,  capable  of  containing  one  hundred  and  fifty  or 
two  hundred  persons.  This  had  been  usually  occupied 
as  a  place  for  the  rehearsals  of  the  singing  choir,  but 
was  now  made  to  answer  the  purposes  of  a  vestry.  It 
was  often  crowded,  and  on  some  occasions  the  assem- 
bly adjourned  to  the  church.  These  exercises  were 
especially  attractive  to  young  persons ;  and  many,  of 
both  sexes,  who  were  in  the  habit  of  attending  them, 
became  in  this  way  the  subjects  of  permanent  religious 
impressions.  After  a  time,  a  weekly  lecture  in  the  same 
room  took  the  place  of  these  meetings.  This,  in  like 
manner,  proved  peculiarly  attractive  to  young  persons, 
and  was  especially  attended  by  a  larger  proportion  of 
young  men  than  are  commonly  present  on  such  occa- 
sions. It  was  the  case  throughout  his  ministry,  that 
not  only  these  lectures,  but  the  services  of  the  Sabbath, 
were  found  to  draw  together  an  unusual  number  of  this 
class  of  hearers,  who,  from  time  to  time,  as  they  settled 
in  life,  became  permanent  members  of  the  congrega- 
tion. 

Such  private  services  were,  if  it  be  proper  to  use  such 
a  term,  more  decidedly  a  source  of  enjoyment  to  my 
brother,  than  those  of  a  more  formal  character.  On 
these  occasions  he  felt  greater  freedom  in  communicat- 
ing himself.  He  seemed  to  feel  nearer  to  his  audience, 
and  opened  his  heart  to  them  with  a  fulness  and  ear- 
nestness which  made  their  way  more  directly  to  the 
hearts  of  his  hearers.  The  following  passage,  from  the 
Sermon  I  have  already  quoted,  refers  to  his  recollec- 
tions of  these  exercises,  and  displays  also  the  warmth 
of  feeling  with  which  he  looked  back,  even  near  the 
close  of  his  life,  to  the  scenes  and  incidents  of  his  early 
ministry. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  115 

"  In  one  of  the  last  conversations  which  I  held  with  Mr. 
Ware,  his  thoughts,  as  was  always  the  case  when  we  were 
together,  reverted  to  his  old  parish ;  but  on  that  occasion  with 
more  than  usual  interest.  I  had  never  heard  him  express  his 
affection  for  it  so  warmly.  There  was  an  unwonted  tender- 
ness in  his  tones.  The  pent-up  feelings  of  years  seemed  to 
pour  forth  in  a  few  glowing  words.  The  habitual  reserve 
which  covered  the  strong  emotions,  whose  existence  in  his 
bosom  no  one  could  doubt,  was  for  the  time  forgotten.  The 
veil,  that  spread  before  the  sacred  treasures  of  his  soul,  was 
for  a  moment  lifted  up.  He  told  me  of  those  persons  and 
scenes  whose  images  were  nearest  to  his  heart.  He  told  me 
of  those  hours  and  occasions  of  his  ministry  which  were  of 
dearest  remembrance.  And  amongst  them  all,  and,  as  he  said, 
most  beautiful  and  precious  of  all,  were  the  friends  who  had 
stood  near  him  in  that  humble  room,  and  the  evenings  that 
were  there  spent  in  social  devotion.  I  shall  never  forget  the  em- 
phasis with  which  he  said,  '  The  two  happiest  evenings  of  my 
life,'  and  repeated,  '  yes,  the  two  happiest  of  my  life  were,  one 
of  them,  when  we  had  met  to  converse  upon  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per, and  the  vestry  was  so  full  that  we  were  obliged  to  adjourn 
to  the  church;  and  the  other,  when,  after  an  interesting  dis- 
cussion, we  sang  together  at  parting,  as  if  every  soul  present 
felt  the  grandeur  and  joyousness  of  the  sentiment,  the  hymn 
which  concludes  with  this  glorious  verse,'  which  he  then 
repeated : 

"  '  Then  let  our  songs  abound, 
And  every  tear  be  dry  ; 
We  're  marching  through  Immanuel's  ground 
To  fairer  worlds  on  high.'  " 

At  the  time  of  his  ordination,  and  till  his  marriage, 
my  brother  boarded  in  the  family  of  Mrs.  Burditt,  a 
highly  respectable  member  of  his  church,  who  resided 
in   Back  Street,  now  Salem  Street,  directly   opposite 


116  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

Stillman  Street.  In  the  October  after  his  ordination,  he 
was  married  to  Miss  Elizabeth  Watson  Waterhouse,  the 
daughter  of  Dr.  Benjamin  Waterhouse,  of  Cambridge,  a 
lady  with  whom  he  had  been  intimately  acquainted 
from  childhood;  and  for  whom  he  had  many  years  en- 
tertained a  very  warm  regard.*  On  his  marriage,  he 
moved  into  a  house  in  Bennet  Street,  often  called  North 
School  Street,  at  a  very  short  distance  from  his  church. 
This  part  of  the  city  was  then  far  less  eligible  as  a 
residence,  than  it  has  since  become :  and  many  of  his 
friends  urged  his  selection  of  a  more  agreeable  place  of 
abode.  But  he  decidedly  preferred  to  live  in  the  midst 
of  his  people.  "  His,7'  as  he  said,  "  was  a  North-End 
parish,  and  he  must  be  a  North-End  man.*'  Nor  could 
he  be  afterwards  persuaded  to  remove  to  a  different  part 
of  the  town,  even  when,  by  the  changes  in  and  acces- 
sions to  his  parish,  a  very  large  portion  of  it  came  at 
length,  as  it  continues  now,  to  be  composed  of  inhab- 
itants of  other  sections. 

In  the  course  of  the  same  year  other  events  occurred, 
which  in  different  ways  were  deeply  interesting  to  him. 
and  produced  powerful  and  permanent  impressions  on 
his  mind.  Very  soon  after  his  own  ordination  he  was 
called  to  take  a  part  in  that  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Pren- 
tiss, over  a  church  in  Charlestown.  Mr.  Prentiss  had 
been  his  contemporary  and  fellow-student  at  Cambridge, 
both  before  and  after  graduation.  They  had  pursued 
their  studies  in  divinity  together ;  they  had  entered  the 
profession  very  nearly  at  the  same  time,  and  entertained 
a  strong  mutual  regard.  The  settlement  of  Mr.  Pren- 
tiss, as  so  near  a  neighbor,  was  a  most  grateful  circum- 

*The  children  by  this  marriage  wore  two  sons  and  a  daughter.     ( I 
died  in  Infancy. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  117 

stance  to  both  of  them ;  and  they  had  naturally  looked 
forward  to  many  years  of  ministerial  intercourse  and 
of  friendly  cooperation  in  their  plans  of  usefulness. 
These  hopes  were  not  to  be  fulfilled.  In  September, 
Mr.  Prentiss  was  seized  with  fever,  and  died  after  a 
very  short  sickness,  whilst  his  friend,  who  had  so  re- 
cently welcomed  him  to  the  fellowship  of  the  churches, 
was  called  upon  to  pay  the  customary  tribute  to  his 
memory  at  his  funeral.  The  sermon  preached  on  this 
occasion  was  the  first  publication  of  Mr.  Ware  after  his 
ordination,  and  indeed  was  the  only  occasion  of  his 
appearing  in  print  during  the  first  two  years  of  his  min- 
istry. He  writes  thus  to  an  absent  sister  concerning 
this  event,  which  occurred  about  the  time  of  the  preva- 
lence of  a  very  fatal  epidemic  in  Cambridge. 

"  Sept.  1817. 
"  As  you  seem  anxious  about  Cambridge,  I  will  say,  the 
sickness  has  abated,  and  neither  of  the  children  has  been  sick 
since  Charles.  That  our  large  family  should  have  escaped  is 
a  subject  of  great  gratitude,  and  I  hope  you  do  not  forget  it  in 
your  daily  prayers.  You  have  doubtless  seen,  by  the  paper, 
that  Mr.  Prentiss,  of  Charlestown,  is  dead.  It  was  a  most 
severe  and  sudden  affliction  ;  he  was  sick  of  the  typhus  fever 
but  eleven  days,  and  most  of  the  time  delirious,  so  that  when 
I  called  I  could  not  see  him.  He  died  at  twelve  o'clock  on 
Saturday  night ;  and  on  Sunday  morning  before  breakfast  I 
went  over  to  his  lodgings,  and  saw  his  mother,  weeping  but  in 

the  attitude  of  resignation,  Miss  B in  the  utmost  distress, 

and  many  friends  in  lamentation.  He  was  a  worthy  man  and 
good  Christian  ;  he  had  done  his  duty,  and  has  left  fewT  behind 
who  will  be  more  active  and  faithful  in  doing  good,  or  would 
be  more  affectionately  remembered.  Warnings  are  multiplied 
on  warnings,  and  we  must  be  ready,  my  dear  Harriet,  to  meet 


118  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,     JR. 

whatever  may  befall  us  or  our  friends.  Three  young  men, 
about  to  be  connected  with  Cambridge  ladies,  have  been  within 
a  few  weeks  snatched  away ;  there  may  be  a  fourth.  I  am 
not  superstitious,  but  I  do  not  expect  at  most  to  live  many 
years,  and  may  live  many  years  fewer  than  I  expect.  I  can  only 
pray  that  I  may  be  spared  till  I  am  fit  to  go,  and  that  I  may 
never  cease  to  make  my  friends  happy." 

In  the  same  year,  also,  began  the  fatal  disease  of 
another  very  near  friend  and  brother  in  the  profession, 
John  Emery  Abbot,  to  whom  allusion  has  already  been 
made,  and  who  was  now  pastor  of  a  church  in  Salem. 
Mr.  Abbot  was  to  my  brother  an  object  of  peculiar 
affection,  and  the  prospect  of  his  loss  was  a  very  sad 
and  melancholy  one.  He  thus  speaks  of  him  in  letters 
written  at  the  commencement  of  this  sickness  to  his 
brother-in-law,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Allen,  of  Northborough. 

"Dec.  1,  1817. 
"  I  spent  the  Sabbath  preceding  yesterday  with  brother 
Abbot  in  Salem.  His  situation  is  truly  most  alarming. 
A  violent  cough  which  yields  to  nothing,  profuse  night  sweats, 
and  extreme  weakness  are  his  symptoms.  The  physicians 
give  very  little  encouragement,  and  those  friends,  who  know 
most  of  his  situation,  think  his  case  almost  hopeless.  I  saw 
him  but  a  few  minutes  ;  he  was  not  permitted  to  speak,  but 
insisted  on  talking  to  me,  and  therefore  I  left  the  room.  He 
sat  on  a  sofa,  upheld  by  pillows,  met  me  with  a  smile,  and,  I 
am  told,  maintains  an  unbroken  serenity  and  cheerfulness. 
I  could  have  said  it  would  be  so  with  Abbot ;  he  is  as  much  a 
real  and  perfect  Christian  as  I  know.  Sickness  and  death 
will  not  dismay  him.  God  grant  we  may  not  lose  his  example, 
for  I  do  think  it  is  much  to  us." 


life  of  henry  ware,  jr.  119 

"Matich,  1818. 

"  Brother  Parkman  was  at  Salem  last  Sunday,  and  tells  me, 
respecting  Abbot,  that  his  friends  are  considerably  encouraged. 
He  gains  strength,  and,  though  danger  is  not  all  past,  because 
his  fever  continues,  yet  they  are  planning  for  him  a  removal 
to  Exeter.  I  know  not  an  event  for  which  I  could  be  more 
sincerely  grateful 

"  I  wrote  the  above  some  days  ago,  and  now  have  to  add, 
with  a  heavy  heart,  the  tidings  that  brother  Abbot  has  relapsed  ; 
his  unfavorable  symptoms  have  returned,  and  with  them  have 
vanished  all  the  hopes  of  his  friends.  God's  will  be  done. 
This  loss,  however,  will  be  long  felt ;  but  it  must  teach  us 
(I  hope  the  application  is  not  irreverent)  '  to  purify  ourselves 
even  as  he  is  pure.'  We  hear,  also,  from  Exeter,  that  Mr. 
Hurd  is  attacked  with  complaints  threatening  to  terminate  in 
consumption  ;  it  is  thought,  indeed,  that  he  is  already  past 
hope.  Add  to  this,  we  are  in  daily  expectation  of  hearing  of 
the  death  of  Dr.  McKean,  who,  by  the  last  account,  was  just 
wavering  on  the  brink  of  the  grave.  And  you  have  seen  by 
the  papers,  that  Mr.  Thacher  has  already  departed  ;  a  man 
never  to  be  spoken  of  without  love  and  admiration  ;  whose 
loss  to  the  cause  of  simple  Christianity  and  practical  religion 
is  greater  than  that  of  almost  any  man  that  could  be  named ; 
who  has  not  left  behind  him  a  man  exhibiting  in  his  character 
so  rare  a  union  of  many  qualities,  any  one  of  which  would  be 
sufficient  to  ensure  respect.  When  I  think  of  the  early  de- 
parture of  such  men,  I  feel  more  and  more  the  reality  of  that 
future  state,  in  wdiich  they  may  finish  the  labors  they  could 
only  commence  here.  It  is  the  only  thing  which,  to  human 
eyes,  can  '  vindicate  the  ways  of  God.'  " 

This  attack,  however,  did  not  produce  so  immediate 
a  termination  of  Mr.  Abbot's  life  as  there  seemed  then 
reason  to  anticipate.  He  rallied  sufficiently  to  excite  in 
his  friends  those  flattering  hopes  of  ultimate  recovery, 


120  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR. 

with  which  the  disease  that  had  prostrated  him  is  so 
apt  to  delude;  and  he  became  well  enough  to  bear  a 
removal  to  his  father's  house,  where  he  passed  the  ensu- 
ing summer. 

TO    THE    REV.    J.    E.    ABBOT. 

-Aug.  ISIS. 
"  My  dear  Friend, 

"  It  is  many,  many  weeks  since  I  saw  you  ;  but  I  often 
think  of  you,  and  rejoice  in  every  hope  of  your  restoration  to 
health.  There  was  a  time  when  we  thought  it  was  com- 
manded you  speedily  to  join  the  company  of  those  who  had 
entered  on  their  reward,  and  wTe  offered  our  prayers  for  you, 
fearing  that  they  would  come  back  empty.  But  we  thank  God 
for  the  hope,  that  you  may  yet  labor  with  us  upon  earth,  and 
that  the  large  company  of  your  friends  shall  not  yet  be  called  to 
mourning.  Thacher  is  gone,  and  others  stand  feebly  in  their 
places ;  so  that  we  are  doubly  grateful  for  every  one  who  is 
threatened,  and  yet  spared.  I  dare  say  that  you  have  felt  as 
much  thankfulness  on  account  of  the  sickness  itself  as  on 
account  of  its  removal,  because  you  must  have  found  it  a  most 
salutary  discipline ;  and,  if  you  are  a  gainer,  we  will  be  sat- 
isfied. I  do  not  know  exactly  how  you  are  at  present.  When 
I  heard  last,  you  were  still  gaining,  but  slowly.  I  am  hoping, 
that  ere  long  you  will  be  able  to  show  yourself  to  your  friends 
here  ;  all  will  give  you  a  hearty  welcome,  and  none  more 
hearty  than  myself.  I  long  to  show  you  my  dearest  friend ; 
and,  if  it  be  not  best  that  I  should  be  disappointed,  I  shall  at 
the  same  time  show  you  the  beginning  of  a  little  family,  that 
is  to  increase  my  joys  and  my  privileges  greatly. 

"  Greenwood  is  soon  to  fill  Mr.  Thacher's  place  ;  he  is 
really  a  delightful  preacher,  and  has  excited  very  uncommon 
attention." 

In  the  fall  of  this  year  there  seemed  sufficient  improve- 
ment to  justify  the  experiment  of  a  removal  to  a  warmer 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  121 

climate,  and  Mr.  Abbot  accordingly  spent  the  winter 
in  Havana.  While  there  his  complaints  again  increased, 
and  he  returned  home  only  to  linger  through  the  sum- 
mer, and  die  in  the  following  October. 

The  friendship  between  these  two  young  men.  which, 
though  of  so  short  a  continuance,  was  of  so  strong  a 
character,  is  the  more  interesting  from  the  uncommon 
similarity  that  existed  between  them  in  their  persons, 
their  manners,  and  their  characters.  Of  their  personal 
resemblance,  there  were  some  very  striking  evidences. 
When  Mr.  Ware  first  went  to  Exeter  to  reside,  on  going 
to  Dr.  Abbot's  house,  he  was,  to  his  great  surprise  and 
almost  consternation,  familiarly  seized  upon,  and  most 
cordially  welcomed,  by  some  of  the  family,  who  had 
mistaken  him  for  Mr.  Abbot.  The  mistake  here  was 
only  amusing ;  but,  after  Mr.  Abbot's  death,  a  similar 
one  occurred  under  circumstances,  which,  at  the  time, 
produced  a  more  serious  impression. 

to  mr.  allen. 

"July  17,  1820. 
"  Walking  in  the  Mall  a  few  days  ago,  a  young  man  came 
up  and  shook  me  eagerly  by  the  hand,  saying,  '  How  do  you 
do,  Mr.  Abbot  ?  '     I  looked  at  him  a  moment,  still  holding  his 

hand,  and  he  said,  '  My  name  is ;  I  suppose  you  don't 

remember  me  ;  I  saw  you  when  you  were  sick  at  Havana.' 
I  was  exceedingly  struck.  He  was  surprised  to  hear  of 
Abbot's  death,  and  could  scarcely  believe  I  was  not  he."  ^ 

*  The  strong  resemblance  in  character  is  noticed  in  a  striking  manner,  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Brazer,  the  successor  of  Mr.  Abbot,  in  a  sermon  preached  by  him 
on  the  Sunday  after  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Ware.  "  I  cannot,"  he  says,  "  in  the 
conclusion  of  these  remarks,  offer  anything  approaching  to  a  just  idea  of  the 
character  of  this  distinguished  and  devoted  servant  of  God  in  Jesus.  Perhaps 
I  mav  best  give  a  glimpse  of  it  to  you,  my  friends,  by  adverting  to  the  striking 

11 


122  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

He  wrote  a  biographical  sketch  of  his  friend,  which 
was  published  in  one  of  the  early  numbers  of  "  The 
Christian  Disciple,"  and  was  also  prefixed  to  a  volume 
of  Mr.  Abbot's  Sermons,  which  he  collected  and  printed 
a  few  years  afterward.  While  engaged  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  this  Memoir,  he  expresses  himself  thus  in  a  let- 
ter to  one  of  his  sisters  : 

coincidence  it  bears  with  that  of  his  early  friend,  your  yet  loved  pastor,  my 
immediate  predecessor  in  office  here,  whose  biography  he  wrote.  Those  who 
best  knew  both,  will  at  once  perceive,  in  reading  this  just  and  beautiful  tribute,* 
that  the  delineation  of  its  author  was  warmed  into  a  life-like  truthfulness  by 
his  sympathies  with  its  subject,  and  that,  in  describing  the  character  of  the 
sainted  Abbot,  he  is  depicting  many  of  the  leading  traits  of  his  own.  The 
same  singleness  of  aim  ;  the  same  devoutness  of  spirit ;  the  same  absorbing 
devotion  to  that  Master  whose  name  they  had  named  ;  the  same  high  estimate 
of  their  sacred  office  ;  the  same  diligence  and  fidelity  in  their  appropriate 
duties  ;  the  same  modesty,  mildness,  and  gentleness  of  manner,  united  with 
an  all-pervading  earnestness  of  purpose  ;  the  same  preference  of  the  religious 
character^  before  merely  professional  gifts  and  acquirements  ;  the  same  rever- 
ential culture  of  the  affections,  as  the  sources  of  the  truest  inspiration ;  the 
same  study  of  their  own  hearts  as  indices  to  the  hearts  of  others  ;  the  same 
tenderness  of  conscience,  united  with  the  highest  possible  standard  of  duty, 
which  enabled  them  to  search  and  move  the  consciences  of  others  ;  the  same 
practical  aims  in  the  best  of  causes,  and  the  same  untiring  perseverance  in 
carrying  them  into  effect ;  the  same  independence  in  the  formation  of  their 
own  opinions,  united  with  the  same  catholic  spirit  in  according  the  same  right 
to  others  ;  the  same  skill  and  diligence  in  finding,  and  in  making,  opportu- 
nities of  religious  improvement ;  the  same  appreciation  of  practical  goodness 
as  the  highest  human  greatness,  and  the  same  desire  of  being  useful  to  others 
as  the  best  earthly  distinction  ;  the  same  absence  of  all  selfish  ambition  and 
undue  reference  to  the  opinion  of  others,  which  freed  them  from  much  cease- 
less, barren,  and  crippling  misery  ; — all  these  traits  of  character  were  common 
to  both.  The  same  integrity,  sincerity,  simplicity,  and  consecrate  repose  of 
manner  marked  their  private  walk ;  and  a  similar  placid  zeal,  chastened 
fervor,  simple  earnestness,  and  subdued  yet  subduing  pathos,  pervaded  their 
public  ministrations.  In  a  word,  both  endeavored,  as  ministers  and  in  their 
personal  relations,  to  form  themselves  on  the  example  of  their  Lord  ;  and  to 
them  both  may  be  applied  more  truly,  than  belongs  commonly  to  even  good 
and  holy  men,  the  comprehensive  eulogy,  which,  in  the  Biography  above 
alluded  to,  Ware  applied  to  Abbot,  they  were  '  men  of  the  Beatitudes.*  " 

*  First  published  in  "  The  Christian  Disciple,"  Vol.  II.,  for  the  year  1821. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  123 

"  Feb.  8,  1820. 
"  I  have  received  aid  from  several  of  Abbot's  friends  in  the 
compilation  of  a  Memoir  of  his  life  and  character,  into  which 
I  have  entered  at  considerable  length,  and  hope  I  have  not 
attempted  it  in  vain.  To  me  he  seemed  the  purest  and  most 
faultless  exemplification  of  the  Christian  character  which  I 
have  ever  known ;  and  it  has  afforded  me  the  greatest  pleasure 
to  look  over  the  various  testimonials  and  records  of  his  worth 
which  were  sent  me,  and  to  form  from  them  something  for  the 
improvement  of  the  wrorld  and  for  my  own." 


CHAPTER    VII. 

state  of  the  religious  world  at  the  commencement  of  mr. 
ware's  ministry — visit  to  the  south — origin  of  "  the 
christian  disciple"  and  "  the  christian  examiner"  — he  be- 
comes its  editor  — formation  of  a  congregational  church  in 
new  york  — letter  of  dr.  channing— letters  to  dr.  mcleod  — 
failure  of  his  health  — convention  of  1820— his  impressions 
of  mr.  Webster's  oratory. 

1818-20.     iET.  24-26. 

Beside  entering  earnestly  into  the  appropriate  duties 
of  his  profession.  Mr.  Ware  soon  became  engaged  in 
most  of  the  benevolent  and  religious  plans  of  the  day. 
and  with  a  heartiness  which  at  once  made  him  a  wel- 
come coadjutor.  He  came  into  life  at  the  time  when  the 
dividing  lines  had  just  become  distinctly  drawn  between 
that  portion  of  the  Congregational  clergy  who  held  Uni- 
tarian, or,  as  they  had  usually  been  called,  Liberal 
opinions  in  theology,  and  those  who  were  denominated 
the  Orthodox,  or  Evangelical.  It  was  a  period  of  much 
religious  excitement,  and  of  some  acrimony  of  feeling ; 
and  a  controversy  relating  to  the  different  points  in  dis- 
pute was  carried  on  between  distinguished  members  of 
the  opposite  parties  with  much  zeal,  vigor,  and  ability, 
partly  in  the  periodical  publications  of  the  day,  and 
partly  in  separate  pamphlets.  This  controversy  extend- 
ed over  a  period  of  several  years.  My  brother,  as  will 
have  appeared  from  many  expressions  made  use  of  in 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  125 

his  letters,  was  disinclined,  both  from  feeling  and  prin- 
ciple, to  the  discussion  of  mere  doctrinal  points;  yet  his 
opinions  with  regard  to  the  subjects  in  dispute  were  of 
the  most  decided  character,  and  this  disinclination  was 
the  result,  not  of  any  doubt  as  to  where  the  truth  lay. 
but  of  a  conviction  that  a  Christian  minister  would  be 
better  employed  in  promoting  holiness  of  life,  than  in 
preaching  the  doctrines  of  a  sect.  Hence,  for  the  most 
part,  he  avoided  sectarian  discussion  in  the  pulpit, 
though  not  at  all  backward  to  assert  or  defend  his  opin- 
ions, when  occasion  demanded :  and,  although  not  tak- 
ing the  field  precisely  as  a  combatant,  his  zeal  and 
earnestness  in  all  religious  movements  soon  made  him 
indirectly  one  of  the  most  active  members  in  promoting 
the  interests  of  the  body  with  which  he  was  connected. 

In  December,  1818,  he  made  an  excursion  to  the 
South,  as  far  as  Washington,  partly  with  the  view  of 
improving  his  health,  but  quite  as  much  for  the  purpose 
of  preaching  for  a  new  Unitarian  Society,  which  had 
been  recently  established  in  Baltimore,  being  the  first 
of  the  kind,  it  is  believed,  which  had  ever  existed  be- 
yond Philadelphia.  On  his  way  thither  he  preached  on 
one  Sabbath  in  New  York,  where,  however,  there  was 
then  no  regularly  organized  Society,  and  once  in  Phila- 
delphia.    In  Baltimore,  he  remained  three  weeks. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1819,  a  plan  was  pro- 
posed for  the  publication  of  a  periodical  work,  which 
should  be,  in  some  degree,  the  organ  of  the  Unitarian 
body.  In  carrying  this  into  execution,  my  brother  took 
an  active  part.  It  proved  eminently  successful,  and,  in 
its  results,  has  had  no  inconsiderable  influence  in  pro- 
moting the  dissemination  of  the  religious  opinions  for 
the  defence  of  which  it  was  intended.  In  the  year  1813, 
11* 


126  LTFF.    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

u  The  Christian  Disciple."  a  monthly  journal,  had  been 
established  in  Boston,  at  the  suggestion  of  Drs.  Chan- 
ning,  Lowell,  and  Tuckerman,  and  the  Rev.  Samuel  C. 
Thacher.  The  Rev.  Noah  Worcester,  who  had  recently- 
distinguished  himself  by  '-'the  union  of  talent  in  wri- 
ting, and  skill  in  reasoning,  with  Christian  gentleness 
of  manner  and  a  catholic  largeness  of  spirit,**  which  his 
productions  displayed,  was  induced  to  become  its  editor. 
He  removed  to  Brighton  in  May  of  this  year,  for  the 
purpose  of  taking  charge  of  it.  The  original  design  of 
this  work  may  be  best  expressed  in  the  words  of  those 
who  proposed  it  to  the  editor.  "We  need,"  they  say, 
••  a  periodical  publication,  which  shall  be  adapted  to  the 
great  mass  of  Christians,  and  the  object  of  which  shall 
be  to  increase  their  zeal  and  seriousness,  to  direct  their 
attention  to  the  Scriptures,  to  furnish  them  with  that 
degree  of  Biblical  criticism  which  they  are  capable  of 
receiving  and  applying,  to  illustrate  obscure  and  per- 
verted passages,  and,  though  last,  not  least,  to  teach  them 
their  Christian  rights,  to  awaken  a  jealous  attachment 
to  Christian  liberty,  to  show  them  the  ground  of  Con- 
gregationalism, and  to  guard  them  against  every  enemy, 
who  would  bring  them  into  bondage.  Our  conviction 
of  the  importance  of  this  work  has  been  strengthened 
by  the  appearance  of  a  publication  in  '  The  Panoplist," 
recommending  the  immediate  erection  of  Ecclesiastical 
tribunals."  "We  have  no  desire  to  diffuse  any  reli- 
gious peculiarities.  Our  great  desire  is  to  preserve  our 
fellow-Christians  from  the  systematic  and  unwearied 
efforts  which  are  making  to  impose  on  them  a  human 
creed,  and  to  infuse  into  them  angry  and  bitter  feelings 
towards  those  who  differ  from  them.  Our  great  desire 
is  to  direct  men  to  the  word  of  God,  and  to  awaken  in 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  127 

those  Christians  who  receive  this  as  their  only  stand- 
ard, a  more  devout,  serious,  earnest,  and  affectionate 
piety,  than  they  often  discover."'1*  "  The  Christian  Dis- 
ciple" had  continued  in  existence  from  this  period  to 
that  of  which  we  are  speaking,  but,  for  the  last  few 
years,  had  somewhat  languished.  It  had  become,  in 
fact,  an  object  of  but  secondary  interest  to  its  editor, 
who  had  engaged  himself  with  all  his  soul  in  that 
remarkable  enterprise,  to  which  his  efforts  were  chiefly 
directed,  and  with  so  much  success,  during  the  remain- 
der of  his  life,  the  Abolition  of  the  Custom  of  War.  At 
the  close  of  1818,  it  was  his  desire  to  give  up  his  edito- 
rial charge,  that  he  might  concentrate  all  his  powers  on 
this  great  work.  The  first  notice  which  I  find  of  the 
interest  taken  by  my  brother  in  the  plan  for  remodelling 
the  " Disciple"  is  contained  in  the  following  letter. 

to  mr.  allen. 

"Jan.  1819. 
"  I  take  up  pen  at  this  moment,  only  for  the  purpose  of  giv- 
ing you  a  little  item  of  information  respecting  '  The  Christian 
Disciple.'  Mr.  Worcester  has  resigned  all  connexion  with  it, 
and  the  Boston  ministers,  with  Mr.  Norton,  have  taken  it  into 
their  own  hands,  and  pledged  themselves  to  support  it.  It  is 
agreed  to  change  the  plan  ;  to  make  it  a  standard  work  of  Lib- 
eral Christianity,  to  enlarge  it,  and  to  publish  it  once  in  two 
months.  It  is  designed  to  hold  about  the  rank  of  '  The  Chris- 
tian Observer/  and  to  draw  together  all  the  strength  of  the 
party  from  every  part  of  the  country.  It  will  embrace  a  Mis- 
cellany and  a  Review.  I  know  you  will  be  rejoiced  to  hear 
of  this.     It  is  a  noble  design,  and  is   entered  into  with   a 

*A  more  full  account  of  this  matter  is  given  in  Ware's  "Memoirs  of  the 
Rev.  Noah  Worcester,  D.  D.,"  pp.  51  et  seq. 


128  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

warmth  and  sense  of  its  importance,  which  insure  success.  It 
cannot  but  do  good.  Each  Number  is  to  contain  eighty-eight 
pages,  and  ten  of  us  are  pledged  to  afford  at  the  rate  of  eight 
pages  for  each  Number,  either  writing  it  ourselves,  or  procur- 
ing it  from  our  friends." 

In  a  letter,  with  which  I  have  been  favored,  from  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Willard  of  Deerfield,  since  the  death  of  my 
brother,  is  contained  some  notice  of  this  matter. 

"  Prior  to  his  settlement  in  the  ministry,  my  acquaintance 
with  your  brother  was  very  slight ;  but,  in  the  winter  of  1818 
-19,  I  was  invited  to  meet  with  a  number  of  clergymen  in 
Boston,  who  had  undertaken  for  a  time  to  superintend  the  pub- 
lication of  '  The  Christian  Disciple.'  Mr.  Ware  was  one  of 
them ;  and  I  was  peculiarly  struck  with  the  rare  combination 
of  candor  and  decision,  with  which  he  expressed  his  opinions 
on  various  subjects.  The  impressions  I  then  received  were 
confirmed  by  the  whole  of  my  subsequent  intercourse  with 
him.  He  was  frank  and  unreserved  in  the  expression  of  his 
own  views  ;  but,  as  he  had  no  fondness  for  skepticism  or  con- 
tradiction, his  mind  was  open  to  any  substantial  arguments,  by 
which  his  previous  opinions  might  be  either  matured  or 
changed  ;  and  he  was  equally  prompt  in  acknowledging  the 
force  of  such  arguments. " 

The  first  Number  of  the  work  in  its  new  form  was 
published  in  March,  1819,  and  met  with  far  greater  suc- 
cess than  had  been  anticipated.  It  had  been  superin- 
tended by  Mr.  Ware,  and  he  gives  an  account  of  its 
reception  by  the  public  in  the  following  letter,  which 
also  contains  an  allusion  to  another  enterprise  in  which 
he  took  an  active  part. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  129 

to  mr.  allen. 

"  March,  1819. 
"  Tell  me  what  you  think  of  our  new  '  Disciple.'  It  is  quite 
welcomed  in  this  town.  A  considerable  increase  of  the  sub- 
scription has  taken  place,  I  myself  having  procured  forty-seven, 
five  of  them  in  New  York.  Did  I  tell  you  that  wTe  had  organ- 
ized a  Christian  Tract  Society,  and  are  even  nowr  beginning  to 
print?  Each  of  the  Boston  ministers  subscribes  twenty  dol- 
lars, expecting  the  necessary  sum  to  be  partly  made  up  by 
the  rich  of  the  several  Societies,  and  the  money's  worth  to 
be  received  in  Tracts.  Three  hundred  dollars  are  already 
subscribed,  and  more  is  expected.  Mr.  Col  man  is  publisher, 
under  the  direction  of  the  Christian  Disciple  Society.  '  Our 
spirits  are  stirred  within  us,  seeing  the  wThole  city  given  to  idola- 
try,' as  is  said  of  Paul.  We  are  beginning  to  work,  and,  I 
hope,  shall  work  to  some  purpose.  I  am  to  superintend  the 
second  Number  of  '  The  Christian  Disciple.'  It  will  probably 
be  quite  as  good  as  the  first;  I  only  fear,  not  sufficiently 
popular." 

He  became  ultimately  the  permanent  conductor  of  the 
work,  and  continued  its  management  to  the  close  of 
1822.  The  interest  taken  in  it  on  its  first  appearance 
was  very  considerable.  The  list  of  subscribers  immedi- 
ately and  rapidly  increased,  and  it  has  since  continued 
to  be  one  of  the  most  uniformly  well  supported  journals 
of  the  country.  Its  character,  and  the  principles  on 
which  it  has  been  conducted,  have  been  essentially  the 
same  to  the  present  day,  when  it  has  reached  the  thirty- 
second  year  of  its  existence.  Several  changes  have 
taken  place  in  its  form  and  size,  and,  in  the  year  1824, 
when  it  came  under  the  editorial  charge  of  Mr.  Palfrey, 
its  name  was  changed  to  "The  Christian  Examiner." 
Its  first  editor  not  only  superintended  the  publication, 


130  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

but  had  the  task,  no  easy  one,  as  every  editor  of  a  jour- 
nal well  knows,  of  securing  from  different  individuals 
the  respective  contributions  they  had  engaged  to  fur- 
nish. He  was  also  one  of  the  most  prolific  of  its  sup- 
porters, and  probably  the  amount  of  his  composition 
considerably  exceeded  that  of  any  other  single  person. 
In  July,  he  thus  writes  concerning  this  work  and  the 
Tract  Society ;  and  in  the  last  paragraph  refers  to  his 
preaching  to  a  new  Society  which  had  been  formed  in 
the  city  of  New  York,  where  he  had  spent  three  Sun- 
days in  the  month  of  June. 

to  mr.  allen. 

"  July,  1819. 

"  With  this  goes  ■  Disciple,'  No.  3,  which,  I  think,  is  a  good 
Number  in  itself,  but,  I  fear,  rather  heavy  to  many  readers  on 
account  of  the  length  of  the  pieces,  and  not  sufficiently 
popular. 

11  Communications  from  the  country  will,  as  you  say,  be  val- 
uable to  many  readers.  Variety,  to  suit  various  classes  of 
readers,  must  come  from  various  classes  of  writers.  I  am 
happy  to  say,  that  two  Tracts  are  in  the  press,  and  one,  Mr. 
Channing's  Sermon,  (two  thousand  copies,)  will  be  out  in  a 
day  or  two.  Part  of  my  subscription  I  intend  sending  to  you. 
Part  of  it,  I  shall  sell  to  my  people,  having  drawn  up  a  paper 
saying,  that  any  one  for  seventy-five  cents  per  annum  shall 
have  all  that  are  published.  I  think  thus  I  shall  obtain  thirty 
dollars,  and  then  I  can  increase  my  subscription  to  forty. 

"  Now,  then,  for  New  York.  On  my  first  arrival  there,  I 
was  a  little  disappointed  at  the  small  number  of  those  who 
attended  worship,  the  first  Sabbath  (three  services)  only  about 
two  hundred  persons.  But,  on  farther  consideration,  I  found 
it  quite  as  many  as  could  be  expected  ;  and  on  the  two  follow- 
ing Sundays  there  were  many  more,  and  on  the  last  the  chapel 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  131 

was  quite  full.  It  is  calculated  to  hold  three  hundred  and 
over.  The  number  of  proprietors  is  about  thirty,  and  more 
than  half  of  them  have  families.  Their  interest  is  of  a  very 
enlightened  sort,  calm  and  yet  fervent ;  they  understand  the 
merits  of  the  case,  and  are  perfectly  decided  without  any  par- 
tizanship,  and  really  liberal  without  bigotry  or  latitudinarian- 
ism.  I  think  them  in  an  admirable  state,  and  some  of  them 
very  serious,  religious  men.  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  their 
final,  though  very  gradual,  success.  They  are  unable  to  build 
a  church  at  present,  but  have  the  promise  of  several  rich  men 
to  join  them  whenever  they  shall  undertake  it." 

The  formation  of  this  Society  was  an  important  event 
in  the  religious  history  of  the  day.  In  the  spring  of 
1819,  several  gentlemen  in  New  York,  principally  from 
Massachusetts,  associated  themselves  for  the  purpose 
of  procuring  such  preaching  as  was  in  conformity  with 
their  ideas  of  religious  truth.  There  was  at  this  time 
in  the  city  no  church  in  which  there  was  manifested 
the  slightest  tolerance  for  the  opinions  in  which  most 
of  them  had  been  educated.  In  April,  Dr.  Charming 
preached  to  a  small  assembly  of  hearers  in  a  private 
house.  The  Society  afterward  procured  a  hall  in  the 
Medical  College,  in  Barclay  Street,  where  public  wor- 
ship was  held ;  and  Dr.  Channing  was  followed  succes- 
sively by  Mr.  Palfrey  and  Mr.  Greenwood,  and,  in  June, 
by  Mr.  Ware.  During  this  visit  it  happened  to  him 
(what  was  indeed  very  rarely  the  case)  to  fall  into  a 
state  of  great  despondency  with  regard  to  the  prospects 
of  the  cause.  He  usually  entertained  the  most  cheer- 
ing and  hopeful  views  of  the  ultimate  success  of  Chris- 
tian truth :  but  he  seems  at  this  time  to  have  been  in  a 
manner  oppressed  by  a  consideration  of  the  apparent 
inadequacy  of  the  means  to  the  accomplishment  of  the 


132  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.  JR. 

proposed  end.  He  found  himself  almost  a  stranger  and 
unknown,  in  the  midst  of  a  large  city,  whose  whole  pop- 
ulation, so  far  as  they  had  any  religious  feeling  at  all, 
entertained  a  thorough  hostility  to  the  views  which  he 
had  undertaken  to  advocate,  looking  upon  the  little 
handful  with  whom  he  was  associated,  as  a  crew  of 
heretics  and  infidels ;  and  he  shrunk  from  the  over- 
whelming odds  which  seemed  to  be  staked  against  him. 
While  in  this  frame  of  mind,  he  wrote  to  Dr.  Channing^ 
from  whom  he  received  an  answer  that  gave  him  fresh 
hope ;  and  the  clouds,  which  for  a  time  had  hung  about 
the  prospect,  seem  soon  to  have  been  dissipated. 

from  the  rev.  dr.  chaining. 

"Boston,  June  16,  1819. 

k*  My  dear  Sir, 

"  Your  letter  has  been  strangely  delayed.  I  have  just  re- 
ceived it,  and  therefore  may  have  seemed  negligent  of  your 
request  of  advice  and  encouragement.  You  remember  the 
language  of  the  Psalmist,  '  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  0  my 
soul  ?  Hope  in  God.'  I  regret  that  you  have  not  more  to  ani- 
mate you ;  but  the  true  use  of  difficulties  is  at  once  to  confirm 
our  devout  submission,  and  to  call  forth  conscientious  exertion. 
There  is  a  satisfaction  in  adhering  to  a  good  cause,  when  it 
droops,  as  well  as  when  it  prospers.  We  have  but  one  ques- 
tion to  settle  ;  Are  we  preaching  God's  truth  ?  are  we  holding 
forth  a  purer  system  of  Christianity  than  that  which  prevails  ? 
are  we  inculcating  doctrines,  which,  if  believed,  will  make 
men  better,  and  fit  them  more  surely  for  future  happiness  ? 
If  we  believe  this,  we  must  not  sink  ;  for,  if  our  convictions 
be  true,  our  cause  is  God's,  and  will  prevail ;  and,  if  we  err, 
our  sincere  aim  to  serve  him  will  be  accepted,  and  will  be  over- 
ruled to  good. 

"  Your  letter  discourages  the  hope  of  the  speedy  erection  of 
an  independent  church  in  New  York ;    and  I  perceive  you 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  133 

expect  little  from  ministrations  in  an  obscure  chapel.  On  this 
last  point  I  cannot  agree  with  you.  If  our  friends  have  zeal 
enough  to  withstand  neglect ;  if  they  love  Christianity  as  much 
in  an  unostentatious  building,  (by  the  way,  a  much  better  one 
than  the  upper  room  in  which  Paul  preached,)  as  in  a  splendid 
church ;  if  they  have  made  up  their  minds  to  worship  God 
according  to  their  best  understanding  of  his  word,  I  have  no 
fear  of  the  result.  If  they  have  Scripture,  and  its  Author,  on 
their  side,  Providence  will  send  them  friends.  My  only  fear 
is,  that  they  are  not  prepared  to  '  take  up  the  cross  ;'  that  the 
Gospel,  without  its  worldly  accompaniments,  may  not  be 
enough  for  them ;  that  the  struggle  maybe  an  exhausting  one, 
not  being  sustained  by  a  deep  feeling  of  the  importance  of  their 
principles ;  and  I  fear  this,  not  because  I  think  them  inferior 
to  most  men,  but  because  the  union  of  unconquerable  zeal  with 
calmness  and  charitableness  of  mind  is  so  uncommon.  As  to 
their  best  course,  I  agree  with  you,  that  they  should  call  atten- 
tion to  the  subject  of  their  peculiarities.  Good  books  and 
tracts,  exposing  the  error  of  Calvinism,  would  be  very  useful. 
"  As  to  the  style  of  preaching,  it  should  be  distinctive  and 
earnest.  We  should  mark  plainly,  openly,  in  direct  language, 
and  by  strong  contrast,  the  difference  of  our  views  from  those 
which  prevail,  letting  this  difference  appear  in  our  discourses, 
on  ordinary  as  well  as  disputed  subjects  ;  but  we  should  always 
let  men  see  that  we  hold  our  distinguishing  views  to  be  impor- 
tant, only  because  they  tend  to  vital  and  practical  godliness. 
We  should  give  them  to  men  as  means  and  motives  to  a 
Christian  life  ;  teaching  them  how  to  use  them  as  helps  to  vir- 
tue ; — and  we  should  always  assail  the  opposite  sentiments  as 
unfriendly  to  the  highest  virtue,  and  earnestly  and  affection- 
ately warn  men  against  them,  as  injuring  their  highest  inter- 
ests. I  have  but  one  more  remark.  Christ  preached  to  the 
poor ;  and,  I  think,  that  no  system  bears  the  stamp  of  his  reli- 
gion, or  can  prevail,  which  is  not  addressed  to  the  great  major- 
ity of  men. 

12 


134  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

11  I  do  not  wish  to  see  a  Unitarian  Society  in  New  York, 
made  up  of  rich,  fashionable,  thoughtless  people.  I  wish 
friends  and  adherents,  who  will  be  hearty  and  earnest ;  and  I 
believe  these  qualities  may  be  found  mainly  in  the  middling 
classes.  Can  no  inquiry  be  instituted  among  these  to  learn 
whether  they  are  favorably  disposed  to  your  object? 

11  My  sincere  regards  and  best  wishes  to  all  our  friends.  I 
wish  to  hear  often. 

"  Your  affectionate  brother, 

"  Wm.  E.  Channing." 

In  the  subsequent  progress  of  this  Society  *Mr.  Ware 
took  a  constant  and  deep  interest :  this  being  known, 
frequent  recourse  was  had  to  him  for  assistance  and 
advice  during  the  early  years  of  its  existence.  There 
can  hardly  be  a  stronger  testimony  to  the  practical  and 
useful  cast  of  his  mind,  than  the  frequency  with  which 
he  was  called  upon,  even  at  this  early  age,  and  after  so 
short  a  period  passed  in  the  active  duties  of  life,  for  that 
sort  of  counsel,  in  the  management  of  affairs,  which  is 
usually  sought  only  from  the  lips  of  age  and  experience. 

Though  a  little  out  of  the  order  of  time,  some  further 
circumstances,  growing  out  of  his  interest  in  this  Society, 
will  be  best  stated  now.  In  the  autumn  of  this  year, 
they  felt  themselves  sufficiently  encouraged  to  undertake 
the  building  of  a  house  for  worship  :  and.  with  this 
view,  were  incorporated  as  a  distinct  body,  under  the 
name  of  "  The  First  Congregational  Church  of  New 
York."  In  the  spring  of  1820,  they  proceeded  to  the 
erection  of  their  church  ;  and  my  brother,  being  present 
in  the  city  for  the  purpose,  made  an  address  on  the  lay- 
ing of  the  corner-stone,  which  took  place  on  Saturday, 
the  29th  of  April.  On  the  evening  of  the  succeeding 
day,  he  attended  a  service  at  the  Reformed  Presbyterian 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  135 

Church,  and  heard  there  a  sermon  from  its  pastor,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  McLeod,  the  text  of  which  was  the  disputed 
verse,  1  John,  v.  7,  of  the  three  heavenly  witnesses. 
This  was  claimed  by  the  preacher  as  genuine,  and  was 
made  the  occasion  of  severe  animadversion  upon  the 
Unitarian  belief.  On  the  evening  of  the  next  Sabbath, 
Mr.  Ware  was  naturally  led  to  attend  again  at  the  same 
church,  and  Dr.  McLeod  took  then  for  his  text  a  pas- 
sage of  Scripture,  which  had  been  inscribed  on  the  plate 
deposited  under  the  corner-stone  of  the  new  church, — 
"  This  is  life  eternal,  to  know  thee,  the  true  God,  and 
Jesus  Christ,  whom  thou  hast  sent;"  and  proceeded  to 
remark  again  on  the  opinions  held  by  Unitarians,  with 
especial  reference  to  the  ceremony  of  the  preceding  week. 
The  attack  in  these  sermons  was  so  direct,  and  seemed 
so  likely  to  increase  the  unjust  prejudices  already  exist- 
ing against  this  class  of  Christians,  that  my  brother  felt 
himself  called  upon  to  make  some  reply.  Accordingly, 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  without  any  full  oppor- 
tunity of  consulting  books,  or  weighing  the  subject  delib- 
erately, he  wrote  and  published  two  Letters,  addressed 
to  the  preacher  :  the  first  containing  a  general  sketch  of 
the  argument  in  relation  to  the  disputed  text,  and  the 
second,  some  remarks  in  reply  to  the  statements  in  the 
second  sermon.  This  pamphlet  was  published  on  the 
11th  of  May,  only  four  days  after  the  delivery  of  the 
second  sermon,  and  a  copy  of  it  was  sent,  accompanied, 
by  a  respectful  note,  to  Dr.  McLeod,  who  returned  the 
following  answer. 

to  the  rev.  henry  ware,  jr. 
«  Sir, 

"  I  have  received  your  polite  note  of  the   11th,  and  have 
attentively  perused  your  two  printed  Letters,  a  copy  of  which 


136  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

you  had  the  goodness  to  present  to  me.  I  have  no  right  to 
complain  of  the  liberty  you  have  taken  in  addressing  me  from 
the  press,  on  a  subject  of  which  I  treated  in  the  pulpit;  and 
I  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  the  style  of  your  correspon- 
dence. That  you  should  have  misunderstood,  and  of  course 
misrepresented,  some  of  my  remarks,  was  to  have  been  ex- 
pected, without  a  supposition  of  intentional  misrepresentation. 
Your  religious  principles  are  as  different  from  mine,  as  are 
those  of  Zoroaster  from  the  faith  of  Abraham. 

"  I  hope  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  accept  a  copy  of  my 
1  Sermons  on  True  Godliness?  in  which  my  views  of  Christi- 
anity are  contained.  They  differ  essentially  from  your  views. 
Be  assured,  Sir,  that  you  have  an  interest  in  my  humble 
prayers  to  the  only  true  God,  that  you  may  be  accepted  of  him 
through  the  righteousness  of  Jehovah  Jesus. 

"  Your  humble  servant  in  the  glorious  gospel, 

"  Alex.  McLeod. 

"  New  York,  13*A  May,  1820." 

On  the  succeeding  Sabbath,  Dr.  McLeod  preached  a 
third  discourse,  of  the  same  tendency  with  those  which 
had  preceded,  containing  personal  allusions  to  some  of 
the  most  distinguished  professors  of  Unitarian  opinions, 
and  some  reply  to  the  pamphlet.  The  attention,  which 
was  in  this  way  called  to  the  important  subject  in  con- 
troversy, proved  in  the  end,  probably,  beneficial  to  the 
prospects  of  the  new  Society. 

The  interest,  which  Mr.  Ware  felt  in  the  prosperity 
of  his  New  York  friends,  was  of  course  increased  by 
the  circumstance,  that  in  the  winter  of  the  succeeding 
year,  1S21,  his  brother  William  became  their  pastor. 
This  interest  was  a  permanent  one,  originating,  per- 
haps, in  personal  and  accidental  associations ;  but  was 
strengthened  by  the  view  which  he  afterward  took  of 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  137 

the  importance  of  the  city  of  New  York,  as  a  wide  field 
for  implanting  and  cultivating  Unitarian  sentiments. 
It  continued  to  the  end  of  his  life,  and  frequently  man- 
ifests itself  in  his  correspondence  with  his  brother,  and 
in  letters  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Dewey,  afterward  pastor  of 
the  Second  Congregational  Society,  which  was  formed 
in  that  city. 

Previously  to  his  ordination  his  health  had  been  very 
good ;  but.  within  no  very  long  period,  he  became  af- 
flicted with  some  of  those  bodily  infirmities,  from  which 
he  was  seldom  afterward  entirely  exempt,  though  not  the 
subject  of  any  actual  disease.  He  suffered  frequently 
from  severe  headaches,  which  for  the  time  prostrated 
him  entirely;  from  pains  in  the  sides  and  chest;  and 
from  some  dyspeptic  difficulties.  Even  in  the  intervals 
of  such  attacks,  he  was  rarely  free  from  a  sense  of  lan- 
guor and  indisposition  to  bodily  exertion.  Still,  he 
often  forced  himself  to  no  inconsiderable  exertions,  both 
of  body  and  mind ;  but  these  were  unequal  and  irregu- 
lar; and  a  tendency  to  the  procrastination  of  duty, 
especially  that  of  writing  sermons,  the  result  partly  of 
constitution,  and  partly  of  indisposition,  made  it  occa- 
sionally necessary  for  him  to  crowd  much  labor  into  a 
small  space.  Hence,  he  was  sometimes  obliged  to 
make  great  and  unusually  continued  efforts.  He  fre- 
quently sat  up  very  late  at  night,  and  indulged  in  other 
irregularities  of  the  same  kind :  habits  well  suited  to 
undermine  the  health  of  any  student,  especially  one  of 
so  frail  a  fabric  as  his.  He  said  to  me,  within  a  few 
months  of  his  death,  that  lie  had  through  life  felt  the 
greatest  repugnance  to  regard  his  health  as  an  obstacle 
to  any  exertion,  or  to  offer  indisposition  as  an  excuse 
for  omitting  a  duty,  or  even  for  declining  to  engage  in 
12*' 


138  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

any  extraordinary  task.  He  could  not  bear  to  be  pet- 
ted or  to  pet  himself.  He  was  reluctant  to  think,  when 
he  saw  anything  which  required  to  be  done,  that  he 
was  not  well  enough  to  undertake  it.  His  disregard  of 
the  common  dictates  of  prudence,  in  everything  that 
concerned  his  health,  was  such  as  often  to  grieve,  and 
sometimes  to  irritate,  his  best  friends.  The  following 
is  an  example  of  the  mode  in  which  he  was  willing  to 
deal  with  himself.  On  one  occasion,  when  he  was  to 
give  a  lecture  in  the  evening,  he  was  so  ill  in  the  after- 
noon as  to  require  the  administration  of  an  emetic.  It 
had  produced  no  effect  when  the  hour  arrived.  Feel- 
ing well  enough  at  the  time,  he  entered  church,  hap- 
pening then  to  live  directly  opposite,  went  through  with 
the  service,  and  then  hurried  home  in  season  to  experi- 
ence the  proper  effects  of  his  medicine. 

But  perhaps  we  are  not  always  patient  enough  with 
those  who,  like  him,  are  struggling  with  physical  in- 
firmity. Those  who  join  a  slow  and  unenterprising 
temperament  with  a  sound  and  healthy  body, — who 
are  moderate  in  their  purposes,  and  indisposed  to  active 
exertion, — can  have  little  tolerance  for  one  who,  with 
an  earnest  and  eager  spirit,  always  full  of  new  de- 
signs, always  pressing  forward  in  some  new  purpose,  is 
chained  to  a  frail  and  feeble  frame,  which  he  is  obliged 
to  drag  after  him  at  every  step.  In  such  a  man,  it  is 
not  so  much  a  disregard  of  the  laws  of  bodily  health,  as 
an  entire  forgetfulness  that  he  has  a  body  to  take  care 
of  at  all.  When  reduced  by  sickness,  he  would  lament 
his  imprudences  and  resolve  on  reformation:  but.  the 
moment  he  became  well  enough  to  begin  again  his 
usual  occupations,  he  would  plunge  into  them  with  the 
same   recklessness  as  before.     The  following  extracts 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  139 

from  letters,  written  within  the  first  few  years  of  his 
residence  in  Boston,  are  somewhat  miscellaneous  in 
their  character,  but  contain,  among  other  matters,  allu- 
sions to  his  health. 

to  mb.  allen. 

"  July,  1818. 

"  The  Books  of  Mr.  Thacher's  Library  sold  at  a  pretty  good 
price  ;  the  Polyglot  at  nineteen  dollars  per  volume,  and  Wet- 
stein  at  fifteen.  The  best  books  sold  rapidly  and  high.  I 
bought  Locke's  Works  at  five  dollars  per  volume,  a  very  fine 
copy.  I  have  been  induced  to  look  into  his  Defences  of  his 
'  Reasonableness ;'  and,  although,  as  in  all  controversies,  there 
is  much  of  personality,  yet  there  is,  what  you  do  not  always 
find  in  the  second  or  third  reply  on  the  same  subject,  some- 
thing new  in  each.  Some  passages  may  be  selected  quite 
equal  to  any  in  the  original  work.  In  looking  over  his  works, 
I  am  more  than  ever  sensible  of  his  real  greatness.  He  was  an 
original  thinker,  and  thought  on  a  great  many  subjects.  His 
treatise  on  '  Education'  appears  to  have  been  the  very  com- 
mencement of  the  modern  improvement  in  the  discipline  and 
instruction  of  young  children.  His  '  Essay  on  Human  Under- 
standing' laid  the  foundation  of  modern  metaphysics,  the 
metaphysics  of  common  sense.  His  '  Reasonableness  of 
Christianity,'  his  Preface  and  '  Paraphrases,'  with  his  ■  Letters 
on  Toleration,'  commenced,  and  have  been  successful  in  build- 
ing up  in  the  world,  the  Christian  liberality  of  the  present  day. 
So  that  he  did,  what  perhaps  no  man  else  has  ever  done, 
altered  the  habits  of  thinking  among  m,en,  upon  three  very 
important  subjects,  and  thus  gave  a  cast  to  the  character  of 
society,  which  must  affect  it  forever. 

"  I  am  not  wholly  free  from  pain  in  my  side,  which  forbids 
my  applying  myself  closely  to  study,  and  I  am  therefore  pretty 
indolent.  I  do  nothing  more  than  write  my  sermons.  I  have 
been  engaged  a  good  deal  in  assisting  the  establishment  of  new 


140  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.     JR. 

town  schools,  visiting  every  family  in  my  neighborhood,  about 
two  hundred,  to  know  the  names  and  ages  of  their  children. 
Schools  are  to  be  established  for  children  between  four  and 
seven  years  old. 

"  Sunday  Evening,  July  12. — I  have  passed  a  happy  day. 
For  eight  days  past,  I  have  been  uniformly  better  in  health 
and  feelings,  than  for  more  than  six  months  previous.  I 
preached  this  morning  on  Family  Worship  ;  this  afternoon,  on 
the  Use  to  be  made  of  the  Old  Testament  Characters.  This 
last  sermon  I  commenced  writing  last  night,  at  half  past  nine, 
and  finished  at  nine  this  morning,  which  is  my  greatest  feat  in 
writing.  The  case  was  this ;  a  sermon,  which  I  had  com- 
menced and  intended  finishing  for  to-day,  I  had  mislaid,  so 
that  it  could  not  be  found ;  and,  rather  than  preach  an  old  ser- 
mon, I  wrote  this,  which  was  not  very  bad." 

to  the  same. 

"  Sept.  13,  1819. 
"  You  perceive  by  the  papers,  that  Mr.  Huntington  is  dead. 
Thus  we  pay  an  annual  tribute  to  the  grave ;  who  shall  go 
next  ?  He  has  been  so  little  with  us,  that  we  shall  not  feel  his 
loss  like  that  of  Thacher,  or  like  that  of  any  man  who  had 
associated  more  with  us  ;  but  we  cannot  help  being  affected  by 
it.  The  age  of  a  Boston  minister  is  thirty-two  years  ;  it  is  sad 
to  think,  that  we  may  none  of  us  pass  that  period ;  for  myself, 
it  is  the  very  limit  of  my  expectations." 

In  the  course  of  the  summer  of  1S20,  he  became  so 
seriously  indisposed  as  to  occasion  much  anxiety  in  his 
friends  and  people.  To  an  aggravated  degree  of  the 
symptoms  before  enumerated,  from  which  he  frequently 
suffered,  was  added  a  constant  and  harassing  cough. 
It  was  judged  necessary,  in  the  month  of  July,  that  he 
should  suspend  his  labors  for  a  while.  He  accordingly 
left  home  in  the  latter  part  of  that  month,  and  took  a 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  141 

journey  on  horseback  into  the  interior  of  the  State.  He 
was  absent  about  a  fortnight,  visiting  and  preaching 
at  Princeton  and  Deerfield  on  his  way,  and  returned 
with  health  and  strength  much  improved.  His  cough, 
as  he  informed  us,  subsided  almost  entirely  after  only 
two  or  three  days'  ride,  of  twenty  or  thirty  miles,  and, 
by  the  time  of  his  return,  was  quite  gone.  It  may  be 
stated,  for  the  benefit  of  any  of  his  professional  brethren, 
who  may  suffer  in  a  similar  manner,  that,  at  no  time  of 
his  life,  did  any  remedy  produce  so  distinct  and  well- 
marked  benefit,  as  exercise  on  horseback  in  this  way, 
namely,  riding  through  the  country  from  town  to  town, 
at  a  moderate  pace,  and  living  in  a  very  simple  manner, 
chiefly  on  bread,  milk,  and  eggs.  He  seldom,  however, 
added  to  these  means  entire  rest  from  his  usual  labors ; 
since  he  was  not  willing  to  go  unprepared  to  preach, 
and  in  fact  usually  preached  more  frequently  than  he 
did  at  home,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  accoimt  he  gives,  in 
one  of  his  letters,  of  a  short  tour  for  recreation,  which 
he  took  in  the  succeeding  summer  with  his  friend,  Mr. 
Greenwood. 

TO    MR.  ALLEN. 

"  1821. 

"  Preached  on  Wednesday  the  ordination  sermon  at  Bridge- 
water,  from  Rom.  xii.  11,  *  Not  slothful  in  business,  fervent  in 
spirit,  serving  the  Lord,''  which  I  called,  the  minister's  motto  ; 
and  went  to  Plymouth,  &c,  calling  on  all  the  ministers  as  we 
went  on.  Preached  for  Haven,  at  Dennis,  on  Friday  evening, 
who  holds  two  meetings  on  every  week,  his  people  being  in  a 
state  of  excitement,  and  he  being  not  a  little  Orthodox.  Spent 
Sunday  at  Brewster,  preaching  three  times.  On  Tuesday 
evening,  preached  at  Provincetown ;  Wednesday  morning,  at 
Truro  ;  Thursday  evening,  at  Sandwich.     Thus  it  was  quite 


142  LIFE    OF    HENRY    "WARE,    JR. 

a  missionary  tour.  The  Methodists  began  an  excitement, 
which  has  spread  throughout  the  Cape,  and  made  preaching  a 
very  frequent  affair.  It  would  do  a  great  deal  of  good  for  us 
to  go  down  there  oftener.  It  would  be  the  most  useful  journey 
you  could  take,  and  one  of  the  pleasantest.  All  are  hospi- 
table, and  everything  new  and  strange.  I  want  to  describe  it 
to  you." 

Some  years  afterwards  he  says,  speaking  of  his  fre- 
quent absence  from  home, 

"  I  go  many  journeys,  but  none  for  pleasure,  and  no  long 
ones  ;  and,  in  the  present  state  of  the  churches,  I  should  think 
it  wrong  to  go  where  I  could  do  no  good  to  anybody." 

On  the  separation  of  the  District  of  Maine,  as  it  was 
formerly  called,  from  the  old  Commonwealth  of  Massa- 
chusetts, and  its  erection  into  a  distinct  State,  in  1820, 
a  convention  was  called  for  the  purpose  of  considering 
whether,  in  consequence  of  this  event,  any  amendment 
of  the  Constitution  was  necessary.  My  brother  was 
chosen  a  delegate  to  the  convention,  from  the  town  of 
Boston.  With  a  single  exception,  he  took  no  part  in 
the  business  of  this  body,  but  was  an  attentive  listener 
to  its  debates.  He  was  particularly  interested  in  that 
which  took  place  on  the  subject  of  constitutional  pro- 
visions for  the  support  of  religion.  This  subject,  as 
will  be  recollected  by  those  conversant  with  the  history 
of  the  time,  excited  a  great  deal  of  attention,  and  called 
out  much  talent,  as  well  as  much  feeling,  in  those  who 
were  engaged  in  it.  A  letter  to  Mr.  Allen  contains  his 
recollections  of  the  close  of  this  debate,  and  some  ac- 
count of  the  impression  made  upon  him,  at  that  time, 
by  the  efforts  of  the  distinguished  statesman,  who  has 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JK.  143 

since  filled  so  large  a  space  in  the  parliamentary  history 
of  the  country. 

TO    BER.  ALLEN. 

M  Saturday,  p.  m.,  Dec.  30,  1820. 
11  Dear  Brother, 

"  You  will  have  learned  from  the  papers,  which  I  have  sent 
you,  the  progress  and  conclusion  of  the  business  before  the 
Convention,  when  you  left  it  on  Wednesday  evening.  I  was 
surprised  that  you  went  away  so  early,  and  regretted  that  you 
should  lose  the  most  animated  part  of  one  of  the  most  able  and 
animated  debates  which  has  occurred.  It  must  have  been 
after  you  went  away,  I  think,  that  Mr.  Saltonstall  made  a  very 
powerful  speech,  (much  finer  than  that  which  you  heard,  and 
finer,  indeed,  than  almost  any  one  from  anybody,)  and  that  Mr. 
Webster  closed  the  debate  with  an  overwhelming  burst  of 
roused  and  indignant  eloquence.  It  was  in  the  same  tone 
with  those  which  he  had  previously  made,  and  the  torrent  was 
irresistible.  He  undoubtedly,  by  his  strenuous  and  repeated 
exertions,  turned  the  balance  of  opinion,  and  caused  the  rejec- 
tion of  Williams'  resolution, — 179  to  186.  After  the  counte- 
nance which  had  been  given  to  it  by  Judges  Parker,  Dawes, 
and  Wilde,  and  the  appearance  of  unanimity  in  the  forenoon, 
when  the  question,  if  taken,  would  have  been  carried  by  an 
almost  unanimous  vote,  it  undoubtedly  required  all  the  vehe- 
mence and  effort  of  Webster  and  his  friends  to  obtain  the  deci- 
sion which  was  given.  Such  vehemence  and  efforts  I  have 
never  at  any  other  time  witnessed.  There  was  as  much  talent 
in  the  debate  on  '  the  Senate,'  but  it  was  not  so  roused, 
so  excited  to  strong  action ;  there  was  more  cool  argument, 
and  less  fervid  eloquence.  Every  one,  on  Wednesday 
evening,  was  full  of  strong  feeling,  as  well  as  of  able  reason- 
ing. You  may  discern  this  in  the  tone  of  the  debate,  as 
reported;  but,  to  understand  it  fully,  you  should  have  heard 


144  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

the  tone  of  the  voices  also.  Webster  was  excited  almost  to 
frenzy,  and  he  spared  neither  person  nor  thing,  to  show  the 
badness  of  the  measure,  and  the  inconsistency  of  those  who 
advocated  it.  He  said  afterwards  to  Mr.  Tuckerman,  by  way 
of  apology  as  it  were,  that  he  felt  that  the  cause  was  gone,  and 
nothing  but  a  desperate  exertion  could  recover  it.  He  made 
this,  and  recovered  it. 

"  If  the  State  is  a  gainer,  all  the  credit  is  due  to  Webster. 
He  is  a  wonderful  man.  I  am  more  sensible  of  his  superiority 
to  other  men,  every  day.  No  man  so  quickly  and  so  thoroughly 
discerns  a  whole  subject,  and  elucidates  it  in  so  clear,  precise, 
and  concise  a  manner.  His  mode  of  speaking  is  peculiar ; 
altogether  unfettered  by  any  rule,  and  exceedingly  various. 
He  has  three  distinct  styles.  The  first  is  his  slow,  unimpas- 
sioned,  deliberate  manner,  when  he  is  stating  simple  facts,  or 
plain  reasoning ;  which  is  very  distinct  and  forcible,  without 
being  animated,  like  the  manner  of  a  very  good  reader.  This, 
I  think,  exceeding  beautiful.  The  second,  is  when  he  is 
interested  in  the  discussion  of  some  important  topic,  and  has 
become  warmed  by  the  subject,  or  simply  by  the  action  of  his 
own  mind.  This  is  slowr,  various,  animated,  and  presents  the 
finest  specimen  of  elocution  I  have  ever  witnessed.  This  is 
his  best  and  most  powerful  manner.  The  third  is  different 
from  either  of  the  former,  as  if  it  were  that  of  a  different  man. 
It  is  when  he  is  excited  by  other  causes  than  the  subject 
merely ;  when  he  is  impatient  and  irritated  at  the  conduct  of 
others,  or  at  something  which  has  occurred  in  debate.  He  is 
then  very  rapid ;  a  perfect  torrent  of  words  ;  his  voice  is  loud, 
on  a  high  key ;  his  emphasis  sharp,  and  almost  screeching ; 
his  gesture  perpetual  and  violent ;  his  face  alternately  flushed 
and  pale.  This  was  his  manner  on  Wednesday  evening, 
carried  to  the  extreme  in  his  last  speech.  In  this  he  is  far  less 
pleasant,  though  perhaps  not  less  effective,  than  in  his  other 
style.  He  overpowers  and  oppresses,  as  well  as  convinces, 
you.     This  variety  of  manner,  suited  to  every  kind  of  subject, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE.    JR.  145 

and  every  frame  of  mind,  is  one  of  his  remarkable  traits;  it  is 
one  of  the  secrets  of  his  power  ; — for,  being  altogther  natural 
and  never  assumed,  it  leads  you  into  the  heart  of  the  subject, 
and  prevents  your  being  wfearied,  as  you  would  be,  by  the 
recurrence  of  monotonous  tones.'* 
13 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

HIS  OCCUPATIONS  — SICKNESS  IN  HIS  FAMILY  — PREACHES  AT  AMHERST, 
N.  H.,  AND  UNDER  WHAT  CIRCUMSTANCES  — FORMATION  OF  THE 
ASSOCIATION  FOR  MUTUAL  RELIGIOUS  IMPROVEMENT  — ESTABLISH- 
MENT OF    SUNDAY  EVENING  SERVICES  FOR  THE  POOR. 

1821-22.     2£T.  27-23. 

During  the  years  which  had  elapsed  since  my  bro- 
ther's settlement,  few  events  had  occurred  in  his  minis- 
terial life  which  require  particular  notice.  Though 
called  away  much  to  other  duties,  and  interesting  him- 
self constantly  in  everything  which  he  believed  would 
promote  the  cause  of  religion,  still  his  thoughts  were 
principally  engaged  by  the  cares  of  his  parish,  and  his 
people  always  occupied  the  chief  share  in  his  affections 
and  his  attentions.  For  them  he  labored  constantly 
and  zealously:  and.  notwithstanding  the  amount  of 
his  exertions  abroad,  he  prepared  himself  faithfully 
for  the  pulpit,  and  found  time  for  intimate  personal 
intercourse  with  the  members  of  his  Society:  and  this. 
though  suffering  such  frequent  interruptions  from  ill 
health.  Besides  writing  many  articles,  some  of  them 
of  considerable  length  and  requiring  much  thought,  for 
4-  The  Christian  Disciple/*'  he  performed  the  wearisome 
and  often  vexatious  duties  of  its  editor.  He  added  to 
the  regular  exercises  of  the  Sabbath  a  weekly  Lecture 
on  Friday  evening,  and  met  the  children  of  his  parish, 
at  stated  times,  for  personal  instruction.     Asa  recom- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  147 


pense  for  these  exertions,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  see- 
ing the  number  of  his  hearers  regularly  increase.,  but 
especially,  of  witnessing  a  more  devoted  personal  atten- 
tion to  religion  in  the  families  of  those  to  whom  he 
ministered. 

In  May,  1821,  occurred  the  centennial  anniversary 
of  the  erection  of  the  church  in  which  his  Society  wor- 
shipped. He  availed  himself  of  this  occasion  to  enter 
into  a  minute  investigation  of  its  history ;  and  his  labors 
were  rewarded  by  the  accumulation  of  a  good  deal  of 
curious  and  interesting  matter,  more  than  is  usually 
found  in  the  annals  of  parishes,  which  he  presented  to 
his  Society  in  two  discourses.  These  discourses  were 
published. 

Some  things  relating  to  this  year  have  been  antici- 
pated ;  and  there  is  nothing  further  to  record  except  that 
he  seems  to  have  been  more  than  usually  busy  with  his 
pen.  Besides  contributing  at  least  as  much  as  usual  to 
"The  Christian  Disciple,"  he  became  a  frequent  writer 
for  "The  Christian  Register/'  a  religious  newspaper, 
which  was  established  about  this  period. 

The  year  1822  was  passed  principally  at  home. 
There  had  been  already  considerable  sickness  in  his 
family ;  but,  in  the  course  of  this  year,  the  health  of 
Mrs.  Ware,  which  had  for  a  long  time  been  very  deli- 
cate, became  more  seriously  impaired,  and  she  exhib- 
ited symptoms  of  a  gradual  but  certain  decline.  Their 
youngest  child,  also,  a  boy,  became  in  the  summer  very 
ill,  and  the  alarming  condition  of  both  induced  them  to 
try  the  effect  of  a  change  of  air.  Their  house  in  town 
was  accordingly  given  up,  and  they  removed  to  one  in 
the  upper  part  of  Cambridgeport,  about  a  mile  from  the 
College.      Here  several  months  were  spent,  but  with 


148  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR. 

little  benefit  to  either  of  the  invalids.     They  returned 
to  Boston  in  the  autumn. 

In  August,  he  visited  Amherst,  N.  H.,  and  spent  a 
Sunday  there,  at  the  request  of  a  number  of  persons, 
who  were  not  satisfied  with  the  preaching  which  they 
usually  heard  from  their  minister,  and  had  conse- 
quently separated  themselves  from  the  Congregational 
Society  of  the  place.  They  had  not  formed  themselves 
into  a  regularly  organized  body,  but  proposed  to  have 
public  worship  in  the  Court-House,  not  anticipating 
any  opposition.  On  my  brother's  arrival  in  the  town, 
however,  he  was  greeted  with  a  formal  protest,  both 
from  the  clergyman  in  question  and  from  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  Society,  who  objected  to  his  appearance,  as 
a  proceeding  not  conformable  to  established  usage,  as 
an  unwarrantable  interference  with  the  rights  of  the 
minister  and  people,  and  as  tending  to  disturb  the  har- 
mony of  the  place.  The  circumstances  of  th£  case  did 
not  seem  to  him,  on  careful  consideration,  to  authorize 
this  interference.  It  appeared,  that  some  of  the  persons 
at  whose  request  he  had  come,  had  been  denied  the 
privileges  of  Christian  fellowship  by  the  church  and  its 
pastor,  on  account  of  their  alleged  heretical  opinions, 
and  that  all  of  them  had  formally  seceded  from  the 
parish.  It  appeared,  also,  that  the  clergyman,  who 
had  taken  the  lead  in  this  affair  and  felt  himself  so 
much  aggrieved,  was  only  a  colleague,  and  the  junior 
pastor  of  the  church;  that  the  senior  pastor,  a  man 
advanced  in  life  and  perfectly  respectable  in  his  char- 
acter, was  comparatively  liberal  in  his  views,  and  had 
no  objection  to  the  proposed  services  ;  but  that,  with  a 
singular  want  of  decorous  regard  for  his  age  and  sta- 
tion, he  had  not  been  once  referred  to,  or  consulted  by, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  149 

those  who  thus  undertook  to  speak  as  if  they  alone  had 
rights  in  the  matter.  Taking  all  these  things  into  con- 
sideration, my  brother  found  no  sufficient  reason  for 
relinquishing  the  design  which  had  brought  him  there, 
and  accordingly,  after  a  mild  but  firm  reply  to  these 
remonstrances,  he  preached  as  he  had  been  requested. 
Subsequently  other  services  were  held,  and  a  Unitarian 
Society  was  finally  established.  But  the  number  of 
worshippers  was  insufficient  for  its  maintenance,  and, 
after  a  few  years,  it  ceased  to  exist. 

In  the  autumn  of  this  year,  an  Association  for  Mu- 
tual Religious  Improvement  was  formed  by  some 
young  men  belonging  to  several  of  the  Unitarian  con- 
gregations in  Boston.  It  was  founded  in  an  excellent 
spirit,  and  proved  in  the  end  a  very  important  instru- 
ment, not  only  in  aiding  in  the  formation  of  a  religious 
character  among  its  members,  but  also  in  promoting  a 
variety  of  benevolent  and  religious  operations,  espe- 
cially Sunday  schools,  and  meetings  for  social  worship, 
among  the  poor.  It  is  with  a  view  to  its  connexion 
with  the  last-named  object,  that  the  existence  of  this 
Society  is  here  referred  to. 

In  November,  1822,  a  series  of  religious  services,  on 
Sunday  evenings,  was  projected  by  my  brother,  intended 
for  those  of  the  poorer  classes,  who  had  no  stated  places 
of  worship,  who  were  very  irregular  in  their  attend- 
ance at  church,  or  who  neglected  it  altogether.  It  was 
found,  that  the  number  of  such  persons  in  the  city  was 
very  considerable  ;  and  the  plan  was  entered  into  with 
the  hope,  that  lectures  given  in  their  immediate  neigh- 
borhoods, in  an  informal  way,  might  attract  their 
attention,  and  excite  an  interest  in  religion. 

This  plan  was  carried  into  efFect  with  the  coopera- 
13*. 


150  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

tion  of  the  Rev.  Messrs.  Parkman  and  Palfrey,  and 
with  the  assistance  of  the  Society  just  alluded  to.  Its 
members  entered  heartily  into  the  necessary  measures. 
They  procured  suitable  rooms  and  other  conveniences, 
attended  and  assisted  at  the  meetings,  and  encour- 
aged the  attendance  of  those  for  whose  benefit  they 
were  held.  On  some  occasions,  when  the  minister 
who  was  to  officiate  was  accidentally  detained,  his 
place  was  taken  by  a  member  of  the  Society,  who  con- 
ducted the  devotional  exercises,  and  read  a  printed 
discourse.  These  meetings  were  held  at  four  different 
places,  (though,  I  think,  not  regularly  in  all  of  them,) 
in  the  North  and  West  parts  of  the  town,  namely,  in 
Charter  Street,  Hatters'  or  Creek  Square,  Pitts  Court, 
and  Spring  Street.  The  meeting  in  Charter  Street  was 
held  at  first  in  a  Primary  School  room,  and  afterward 
in  a  small  chapel,  built  by  Mr.  Henry  J.  Oliver,  and 
intended  by  him  partly  for  purposes  of  this  sort  and 
partly  as  a  school-room.  This  chapel  was  dedicated 
in  May  of  the  next  year,  by  a  religious  service,  con- 
ducted by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jenks  and  my  brother,  the 
latter  of  whom  gave  a  discourse  on  "  the  Uses  of  Ex- 
traordinary Religious  Meetings."  The  meeting  in 
Pitts  Court  was  also  held  in  a  school-room,  occupied 
during  the  week  by  Mr.  Badger,  a  member  of  the  Soci- 
ety ;  and  that  in  Hatters'  Square,  in  a  private  room  in 
an  old,  dilapidated,  and  very  large  house,  which  for- 
merly stood  there,  inhabited  by  a  great  number  of 
families  of  the  poorer  sort.  This  building,  as  I  am 
told,  was  formerly  the  meeting-house  of  the  Congrega- 
tional Society  of  Water  town,  which,  more  than  a  hun- 
dred years  ago,  when  a  new  church  was  to  be  erected, 
was  taken  to  pieces,  removed  to  Boston,  and  convened 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  151 

into  a  dwelling-house.  Here  the  accommodations,  and 
probably  the  audience,  were  of  a  humbler  character 
than  elsewhere.  Few  families  in  the  house  or  in  the 
neighborhood  occupied  more  than  a  single  room  each  ; 
and  in  one  of  these  rooms,  as  I  am  informed  by  a  friend 
who  took  at  the  time  a  lively  interest  in  the  lectures, 
these  poor  people  would  collect,  part  of  them,  for  want 
of  other  accommodation,  seating  themselves  on  the  sides 
of  the  bedstead,  and  listen  to  the  instructions  of  the 
speaker,  whose  desk  was  a  pine  table,  and  whose  only 
light,  a  single  tallow  candle.  The  singing  was  con- 
ducted by  some  of  the  young  men  of  the  Association, 
who  were  delegated  for  this  purpose,  and  who  always 
performed  their  part  of  the  duty  with  the  most  exem- 
plary fidelity.  These  meetings  were  fully  attended, 
and  were  followed  by  the  most  satisfactory  results ; 
and,  if  they  were  blessed  to  that  class  of  persons  for 
whom  they  were  especially  designed,  they  were  not  less 
so  to  those  who  benevolently  engaged  in  their  manage- 
ment. 

I  add  a  letter  which  gives  some  account  of  one  of  the 
earliest  of  these  meetings.  It  is  from  the  pen  of  the 
gentleman  already  referred  to.  He  adds  to  this  account 
many  useful  suggestions  with  regard  to  missionary 
operations  among  the  poor,  which  were  afterward  car- 
ried out  successfully  in  practice  by  "the  Ministry  at 
Large.*' 

FROM    HENRY    J.    OLIVER. 

"  Dec.  30,  1S22. 

II  Our  meeting  in  Hatters'  Square,  last  evening,  was  encour- 
aging. A  pretty  general  notice  was  given ;  in  one  house  1 
went  into,  there  were  eleven  families,  and  the  little  which  was 


152  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

seen  of  them  brought  to  mind,  what  a  mingled  condition  is 
ours !  In  one  room  was  a  man  who  was  sitting  by  the  fire, 
who  had  been  confined  to  the  house  (room  ?)  over  two  years. 
In  two  other  rooms  was  sickness  also ;  and  last  week  a  wo- 
man of  forty -five  years  was  buried,  and,  as  one  of  the  neigh- 
bors said,  '  like  a  dog;'  no  prayer,  and  hardly  any  one  in  the 
house  knew  she  was  dead,  till  the  town  hearse  came  to  the 
gate.  Only  one  of  these  families  attend  meeting,  it  is  believed. 
A  neighbor  said,  *  Much  is  done  for  the  heathen  abroad,  while 
we  have  them  at  our  own  doors.' 

"  Three  or  four  persons  out  of  this  house  were  got  into  the 
meeting,  and,  with  about  twenty  others,  constituted  those  who 
were  the  subjects  of  the  lecture.  The  others,  about  the  same 
number  more,  were  of  those  who  always  will  be  found,  from 
parishes  out  of  the  pale  of  which  they  do  not  go  on  the  Sab- 
bath, but,  at  an  evening  meeting,  feel  under  less  restraint  to 
their  minister  or  church,  and  indulge  themselves  in  hearing 
those  they  have  seldom  or  never  had  an  opportunity  of  hear- 
ing before.  Text,  '  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?' — discourse, 
half  an  hour  in  length.  Sang  Portugal,  "Wells,  Mear;  and, 
from  expressions  after  meeting  from  one  and  another,  a  gene- 
ral satisfaction  appeared  to  exist." 

These  meetings  were  followed,  and  ultimately  super- 
seded, by  the  establishment  of  the  Ministry  at  Large, 
under  the  care  of  Dr.  Tuckerman,  who  removed  from 
Chelsea  for  this  purpose  in  1826.  How  far  the  plan  of 
operations,  just  described,  was  the  occasion  of,  or  served 
to  suggest,  the  more  extended  and  systematic  enterprise 
to  which  it  gave  place,  I  am  not  able  to  judge.  The 
same  Association,  however,  which  had  most  earnestly 
supported  the  former,  continued  to  lend  efficient  assist- 
ance in  the  promotion  of  the  latter.  The  chapel  in 
Friend  Street  was  built,  in  1830,  chiefly  by  the  exer- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  153 

tions  of  its  members  ;  and  this,  as  is  well  known,  has 
been  followed  by  the  erection  of  the  chapels  in  Pitts,  in 
Suffolk,  and  in  Warren  Streets,  as  part  of  the  same  sys- 
tem of  operations. 

My  brother's  immediate  connexion  with  this  ministry 
did  not  extend  beyond  the  spring  of  1823.  At  that 
period  the  state  of  his  own  health,  and  more  especially 
the  failing  health  of  his  wife,  and  the  consequent  inter- 
ruptions and  absence  from  home,  interfered  with  this  as 
well  as  many  other  engagements.  But  his  interest  in  it 
never  diminished ;  and  he  had  the  happiness  to  live  to 
see  the  Ministry  at  Large  recognized  as  an  integral  part 
of  the  organization  of  the  religious  community,  and 
established  in  many  other  places  both  at  home  and 
abroad. 

On  the  last  evening  of  the  year  1822,  he  preached  a 
sermon  in  his  church  from  the  text,  "So  teach  us  to 
number  our  days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto 
wisdom."  The  audience  was  large,  and  the  service 
impressive.  He  found  that  he  had  judged  rightly  in 
supposing  that  the  season  was  a  favorable  one  for  an 
earnest  appeal  to  the  hearts  and  consciences  of  men  on 
the  subject  of  religion,  and  he  continued  the  service 
every  year  during  his  ministry.  The  practice  has  been 
adhered  to  by  his  successors,  and  has  become  a  custom 
rendered  almost  hallowed  in  the  Second  Church  by 
time  and  sacred  associations.  Some  of  his  most  effec- 
tive efforts  in  the  pulpit  were  on  these  occasions,  and 
Mr.  Robbins  speaks  of  them  and  of  the  custom  which 
they  originated  in  the  following  words  : 

"  I  allude  to  the  Lecture  at  the  Close  of  the  Year ;  a  sacred 
and  affecting  occasion ;  which  has  always  been  associated  with 


154  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,  JR. 

his  image,  and  will  be  so,  henceforth,  still  more  intimately;  — 
an  occasion  which  I  hope  may  be  solemnly  kept  by  our  children, 
when  we,  like  him,  shall  be  safe  from  the  wear  and  injury  of 
years ; — an  occasion  which  I  pray  may  never  become  obsolete 
in  the  Second  Church,  so  long  as  it  has  a  name  amongst  the 
members  of  Christ.  Mr.  Ware  was  peculiarly  qualified  to  do 
justice  to  a  service  like  this.  His  feelings  were  alive  to  all 
the  solemn  and  elevating  influences  of  the  hour.  His  spirit 
easily  sympathized  with  its  deep  religious  influence.  He 
interpreted  its  solemn  lessons,  as  a  prophet  would  interpret  the 
symbols  of  momentous  truths.  His  preaching  was  never  more 
impressive  than  on  these  occasions.  The  most  powerful  of  his 
published  sermons  was  delivered  at  the  close  of  the  year  1826. 
The  memory  of  that  discourse  and  that  night  will  go  with 
many  of  us  to  our  graves.  My  own  impressions  of  Mr.  Ware, 
as  a  preacher,  were  stamped  at  that  time, — once  for  all,  and  for- 
ever. The  fame  of  his  preaching,  mingled,  perhaps,  with 
some  chastened  feelings,  and  some  desires  reaching  after  the 
Eternal,  had  drawn  a  little  company  of  my  classmates  from 
Cambridge  to  this  church.  We  stood  in  the  crowded  gallery. 
The  preacher's  subject  was  '  the  Duty  of  Improvement,'— a 
theme  most  applicable  to  the  characters  and  feelings  of  the 
young.  Every  word,  and  tone,  and  gesture  was  calculated 
powerfully  to  impress  the  youthful  mind.  But  the  closing 
sentences,  especially,  came  home  to  the  heart  with  a  thrilling 
effect.  Their  sounds  lingered  on  the  ears  of  hundreds  through- 
out that  night.  Their  distant  echoes  come  back  to  me  now. 
No  words  from  mortal  lips  ever  affected  me  like  those.  I  can 
see  his  very  look, — I  can  hear  his  very  tone,  as,  with  the 
unction  of  a  Paul,  he  uttered  the  solemn  charge,  with  which 
that  discourse  concludes.  '  I  charge  you,  as  in  the  presence 
of  God,  who  sees  and  will  judge  you, — in  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ,  who  beseeches  you  to  come  to  him  and  live, — by  all 
your  hopes  of  happiness  and  life, — I  charge  you  let  not  this 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE;    JR.  155 

year  die,  and  leave  you  impenitent.  Do  not  dare  to  utter 
defiance  in  its  decaying  hours.  But,  in  the  stillness  of  its 
awful  midnight,  prostrate  yourselves  penitently  before  your 
Maker  ;  and  let  the  morning  sun  rise  upon  you,  thoughtful 
and  serious  men.'  " 


CHAPTER    IX. 

RELIGIOUS    REVIVAL    IN    BOSTON  — LETTERS  —  SICKNESS  AND    DEATH    OF 
HIS    CHILD    AND    WIFE  — DISPOSAL    OF    HIS    FAMILY. 

1822-24.     JET.  28-30. 

The  winter  of  the  year  1822-3  was  the  period  of  a 
vigorous  revival  of  religion  among  the  Orthodox 
churches  of  Boston  and  the  vicinity.  The  excitement 
was  extensive,  and  the  zeal  of  those  engaged  in  it, 
which  was  very  great,  did  not  appear,  to  persons  of 
different  sentiments,  to  be  always  sufficiently  moder- 
ated by  Christian  discretion,  or  kept  within  the  bounds 
of  Christian  charity.  There  was  some  secession  from 
Unitarian  societies  of  persons  who  were  led,  under  the 
excitement  of  the  times,  to  believe  that  their  faith  had 
not  been  well  founded ;  numerous  additions  were  made 
to  the  churches  of  the  Orthodox,  and  the  result  was 
probably  an  increase  in  the  relative  numbers  and  influ- 
ence of  that  sect.  Mr.  Ware  felt  that  this  matter  was 
regarded  with  somewhat  too  much  of  indifference  by 
his  brother  ministers.  He  did  not  look  upon  it  as  a 
light  affair,  or  as  one  in  which  it  became  them  to  be 
passive  and  uninterested  spectators.  He  thought  him- 
self and  them  to  be  called  upon  for  exertions,  not  to 
prevent  that  attention  to  the  subject  of  religion,  which 
had  been  excited,  but  to  turn  it  to  good  account.  He 
thought  that  they  should  avail  themselves  of  the  open 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  1  ">? 

state  of  the  public  mind,  and  of  the  disposition  which 
manifested  itself  among  all  people  of  all  sects  to  think 
and  talk  on  religious  matters,  to  produce  serious  im- 
pressions, and  establish  a  permanent  interest  in  the 
minds  of  the  community. 

At  tliis  period,  while  his  mind  was  interested  in  the 
subject,  he  addressed  a  letter  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Parker  of 
Portsmouth,  asking  his  opinion  and  advice  in  relation 
to  it.  The  topics  of  his  letter  are  sufficiently  indicated 
in  the  answer  which  he  received. 

from  the  rev.  dr.  parker. 

"  Portsmouth,  Feb.  24,  1823. 

"  What  then  is  to  be  done    by  Christians 

who  find  themselves  thus  rudely  assailed,  and  their  characters 
most  cruelly  aspersed  ?  They  are  to  place  themselves  on  their 
religious  principles,  and  to  find  their  support  in  them.  They 
are  to  go  to  their  work  animated  by  a  warm,  rational,  and 
benevolent  zeal,  and  to  confide  in  God  for  success.  Though 
reproached,  they  must  meekly  endure  the  trials,  and  guard 
themselves  against  being  poisoned  by  the  spirit  which  they 
lament  in  others.  Though  they  witness  much  that  is  irra- 
tional and  even  ludicrous  in  the  efforts  of  those,  who  are 
adopting  every  species  of  management  to  promote  a  work 
which  they  ascribe  ivholly  to  God  ;  yet  the  rational  Christian 
is  not  to  hope  that  good  will  result  from  the  unsparing  use  of 
ridicule.  This  is  a  weapon  which  cannot  be  used  without 
danger  in  defence  of  the  sacred  cause  of  religion.  It  will  not 
be  felt  alone  by  those  who  lead,  but  it  will  be  felt  most  deeply 
by  those  wTho  folloiv ;  it  will  wound  and  alienate  them,  and 
many  of  this  class  are  really  honest,  and  by  persevering  kind- 
ness may  be  brought  to  consistent  goodness. 

"  Nor  can  any  good  be  effected  by  a  systematical  opposition 
to  what  is  usually  called  a  revival  of  religion.  Such  opposi- 
14 


158  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

tion  will  appear  to  many, — and  among  these  will  be  found 
many  really  pious  people, — to  be  made  to  religion  itself. 
Should  such  a  state  of  things  exist  among  you,  as  you  appre- 
hend, I  doubt  not  but  that  it  may  be  turned  to  good  account. 
You  will  find  your  people  more  constantly  turning  their 
thoughts  to  religious  subjects.  You  will  have  opportunity  to 
address  them  with  pungency  upon  the  truth,  which  many  of 
them,  no  doubt,  have  suffered  to  lie  rather  indolently  upon 
their  minds.  You  will  feel  it  to  be  your  duty  more  frequently 
to  converse  with  them  affectionately  in  private,  as  you  per- 
ceive that  they  eagerly  and  feelingly  enter  upon  religious  con- 
versation. In  discharging  this  duty,  you  will  strengthen  and 
gratify  the  best  feelings  of  your  heart.  If  need  be,  you  will 
not  refuse,  as  you  may  be  able,  to  hold  extra  meetings  for 
religious  purposes,  always  preserving  that  decorum,  that  affec- 
tionate, rational  and  yet  moving  form  of  address,  which  distin- 
guishes enlightened  Christians  from  dogmatists,  enthusiasts, 
and  fanatics. 

"  You  see  how  dangerous  it  is  to  ask  me  questions.  I 
have  tried  your  patience,  and  perhaps,  too,  manifested  a  dis- 
position to  dictate  on  a  subject  on  which  I  need  instruction.  I 
will  say  no  more,  but  merely  express  my  persuasion,  that, 
though  you  may  be  called  to  a  severe  trial  of  some  of  the 
Christian's  graces,  you  will  have  ultimately  occasion  to 
rejoice ;  and  my  earnest  wish  is  for  your  success  in  every 
effort  to  do  good. 

11  Your  friend  and  brother, 

"Nathan  Parker." 

The  following  extracts  from  other  letters,  written 
during  the  period  we  have  just  gone  over,  serve  further 
to  illustrate  some  of  the  subjects  which  have  been 
already  alluded  to,  and  to  show  what  was  the  course 
of  his  thoughts  on  several  other  topics. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  159 

to  a  young  clergyman  in  doubt  about  accepting  an 
invitation  to  be  settled. 

"  July  2,  1821. 

"  For   myself,   however,   I  feel  much   less 

decided.  I  have  always  been  an  advocate  for  a  man's  going 
wherever  there  was  a  clear  call,  and  have  always  wished  that 
there  was  more  of  that  sense  of  duty,  which  would  lead  to 
making  some  sacrifices  for  the  general  good  of  the  church. 

Now,  B is  a  place  of  importance,  where  a  man  may  be 

very  useful, — yes,  and  very  happy ;  and  how  is  it,  that  one 
should  not  make  such  a  sacrifice,  as  would  be  required  to  go 
and  do  so  important  service  ?  Other  men  are  giving  up 
friends,  country,  and  home  for  life ;  and  cannot  we  go  two 
hundred  miles,  not  into  the  desert,  not  among  pagans,  but 
among  civilized  Christians,  and  within  three  days'  journey  of 
all  that  we  love  ?  I  confess  that  such  considerations  influence 
me  a  little,  and  not  a  little. 

"  I  have  thought,  from  many  things  in  your  letters,  that 
you  had  a  considerable  liking  to  the  place,  and  it  is  more  than 
confirmed  by  the  contents  of  this.  I  have  no  doubt  you  would 
be  happy  and  useful,  probably  as  much  so  as  in  any  place  ; 
for  truly,  from  what  I  can  observe,  'place  is  of  little  conse- 
quence." 

to  his  brother  william. 

"  Jan.  28,  1822. 

"  I  preached  a  sermon  yesterday  on  '  Her- 
esy,' which  my  people,  some  of  them,  want  to  have  printed, 
but  I  shall  not  do  it. 

"  1.  ■  What  is  Heresy?'  answered  by  an  examination,  seri- 
atim, of  all  the  texts  in  which  the  word  ul'gecrig  is  used. 
2.  Wherein  consists  its  sinfulness.  3.  Wherein  its  danger. 
4.  The  history  of  the  church,  showing  that  heresy  is  always 
the  miTiority.  5.  Be  not  fond  of  giving  the  name  to  others. 
6.  Be  not  concerned  if  others  give  it  to  you. 


160  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

"  I  preached  my  extempore  lecture  on  Friday  evening  to  a 
great  crowd,  on  the  question,  '  Why  are  you  not  a  Trinita- 
rian ? '  I.  (negatively)  1.  Not  because  the  doctrine  is  a  mystery. 
2.  Not  because  I  elevate  reason  above  revelation, — but,  II. 
(positively)  1.  Because  the  favorite  phraseology  of  the  doctrine 
is  not  Scripture  language,  but  human  (copious  examples.) 
2.  Because  the  doctrine  is  not  once  written  in  express  terms  in 
the  New  Testament.  Only  three  texts  pretended ;  one  of 
them  a  forgery ;  the  other  two  say  nothing  of  personality  or 
unity,  therefore  do  not  prove  it.  3.  Because  there  are  four 
strong  and  explicit  denials  of  the  doctrine,  which  have  never 
been  shown  to  be  consistent  with  it,  and  cannot  be  so  shown, 
viz.,  John  xvii.  3;  1  Tim.  ii.  5;  1  Cor.  viii.  6;  Mark  xiii.  32. 
In  examining  this  last  text,  I  spoke  of  the  two  natures.  This 
is  only  half  of  the  subject,  which  I  am  to  finish  next  week." 

to  the  same. 

"  March  9,  1822. 

11  What  you  say  of  your  preaching  is  encouraging,  but  I 
want  to  hear  more  minutely.  I  think  the  opinion  of  Demos- 
thenes should  be  amended  so  as  to  read,  '  Courage  is  the  first, 
second,  and  third  thing  for  the  orator.' 

"  Your  plan  for  a  course  of  sermons  I  think  excellent ;  but  I 
really  cannot  at  once  direct  to  books  which  may  help  you. 
The  best  aid  you  will  derive  from  reading  over  and  over,  with 
a  view  to  the  subject,  the  books  of  the  New  Testament.  You 
must  keep  in  mind  the  principles  of  Locke's  Preface  and  some 
of  Campbell's  '  Dissertations,'  and  Taylor's  '  Key.' 

"  As  to  Controversial  Preaching,  to  be  sure,  it  is  less  pleas- 
ant, and,  for  the  main  purpose,  less  profitable  ;  but,  in  your 
situation,  absolutely  necessary,  with  more  or  less  directness,  for 
nearly  half  the  time.  And,  under  this  necessity,  it  is  a  real 
comfort,  that  it  is  the  easiest  preaching  possible.  One  may 
write  two  good  doctrinal  sermons,  while  he  would  be  laying 
out  the  heads  of  a  decent  spiritual  or  moral  one.     Because, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  161 

First,  the  train  of  thought  is  old,  familiar,  and  beaten ;  you 
have  nothing  to  do  but  to  talk  on,  and  catch  up  such  illustra- 
tions as  suggest  themselves.  Secondly,  a  good  doctrinal  ser- 
mon is  made  up  of  scriptural  quotations,  and  illustrations,  and 
arguments  from  them ;  all  which  is  easier  than  invention  on  a 
subject  of  duty  which  is  not  at  the  moment  particularly  inter- 
esting, and  gives  life  to  you  by  the  necessity  of  turning  over 
dictionaries  and  commentaries ;  an  exercise  in  itself  profitable 
to  both  mind  and  body.  So  that  you  may  regard  doctrinal 
preaching  as  the  very  best  thing  one  half  the  time  for  the 
parish,  for  the  adversary,  and  for  yourself.  Only  never  forget 
to  be  scrupulously  good-natured  and  squeamishly  fair.  The 
most  detestable  thing  on  earth  is  bad  passion  and  unfairness 
in  the  pulpit ;  and  I  would  a  thousand  times  rather  that  you 
were  blind  and  dumb  too,  than  hear  that  you  are  guilty  of  such 
an  offence. 

"  I  have  been  intending  to  write  to  you  an  Epistolary  Trea- 
tise on  Expository  Preaching  and  on  Extempore  Speaking, 
and  on  one  other  topic  which  I  now  forget.  On  all  subjects  I 
shall  throw  in  a  word  as  occasion  may  offer,  and  wish  you 
would  let  me  know  what  you  think  of  my  suggestions.  As 
to  Expository  Preaching,  you  know  my  opinion.  I  advise  you 
to  read  carefully  Mr.  Tuckerman's  articles  in  the  first  volume 
of  ■  The  Disciple.'  I  plead  for  it  strongly,  as,  First,  most  use- 
ful to  the  people.  Secondly,  to  the  cause  of  truth,  especially 
in  your  situation.  Thirdly,  most  pleasant  and  interesting, 
also,  to  hearers,  who  really  are  vastly  more  pleased  to  hear 
even  a  common-place  explanation  of  an  important  or  curious 
passage  of  Holy  Writ,  than  a  very  logical,  philosophical,  and 
elegant  discussion  of  a  topic  in  morals  or  metaphysical  divinity, 
the  use  of  which  they  cannot  fathom,  and  of  whose  beauties 
of  arrangement,  allusion,  and  diction,  very  few  have  any  per- 
ception.    Fourthly,  it  is  easiest  also  to  yourself. 

"  Everything  that  Dr.  Mason  said  on  this  subject  in  his 
farewell  sermon,  I  hold  to  be  perfectly  true  and  well  founded 
14* 


162  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

and  worth  attending  to,  except  his  assertion  of  its  difficulty ; 
for  a  man,  who  has  been  well  grounded  in  theology,  and  the 
principles  of  Biblical  knowledge  and  interpretation,  will  find 
the  labor  comparatively  easy,  and  rather  a  recreation.  He 
may,  to  be  sure,  so  far  dig,  and  search,  and  inquire,  and 
examine  such  minute  questions  of  profound  and  far  learning, 
as  to  make  it  exceedingly  laborious.  But  this  is  not  necessary 
in  order  to  useful  exposition.  Not  many  books  need  be  con- 
sulted, for  the  most  part,  nor  any  extraordinary  learning  be 
brought  into  requisition.  Most  passages  cannot  need  them 
for  elucidation ;  and,  as  to  the  main  object,  doctrinal  and 
practical  inferences,  they  come  upon  you  in  crowds  without 
being  sought.  Take  the  Book  of  Acts.  What  more  profitable 
or  interesting,  than  to  remark  on  and  exhibit,  seriatim,  the 
evidences  it  contains  of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  of  the 
doctrines  preached  at  that  time,  of  the  characters  of  the 
Apostles  and  others,  and  all  the  ten  thousand  moral  lessons 
that  are  implied  and  inculcated  ?  And  how  can  it  be  anything 
but  a  pleasant  and  easy  task  to  do  this,  adding  to  your  knowl- 
edge at  every  step,  and  making  a  dozen  sermons  without  being 
conscious  of  one  hour's  labor  ?  I  do  not  know  any  book  to  be 
preferred  to  this  for  this  purpose/' 

to  the  same. 

"  March  29,  1822. 
"  I  suppose  you  would  account  it  a  small  objection,  that  a 
man  always  grows  tired  of  writing  a  series  of  sermons  before 
he  has  got  through ;  and,  as  to  a  settled  order  of  controversial 
discourses  why  you  must  be  guided  entirely  by  views  of 
expediency  in  your  situation.  I  suppose,  for  my  own  part,  it 
is  necessary,  and  therefore  you  are  right.  But,  as  to  your 
plan,  I  fear  you  will  find  some  serious  difficulties.  First,  it  is 
impossible  that  it  should  be  fully  executed  ;  for  such  an  intro- 
duction of  texts,  as  would  produce  satisfactory  results,  could 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  163 

not  be  brought  forward  except  in  a  long  series  of  sermons, 
which  would  stand  a  chance  of  being  dry,  from  the  inevitable 
accumulations  of  Scripture  quotations.  Secondly,  you  would 
be  obliged  to  examine  every  text  which  is  accounted  strong  on 
the  other  side — a  delicate  business,  in  doing  which  you  never 
wrould  satisfy  yourself  or  others.  It  is  the  hardest  of  tasks  to 
make  the  explanations  in  any  measure  intelligible  to  a  mixed 
audience,  who  will  be  confounded  with  your  talk  about  various 
readings,  translations,  grammar,  &c.  &c. ;  and  yet  most  of 
those  texts  absolutely  require  such  critical  discussion.  You 
cannot,  however,  omit  any  of  them  in  an  examination  of  wit- 
nesses. 

"  This  is  a  great  difficulty.  Another  arises  from  the  very 
nature  of  cross-examinations.  It  is  too  great  a  piece  of  courtesy 
into  which  we  have  fallen,  in  suffering  our  adversaries  to 
choose  the  witnesses,  and  being  ourselves  contented  to  show 
our  ingenuity  in  proving  that  their  testimony  is  not  to  be 
listened  to.  It  is  very  impolitic.  Everybody  knows  that  any 
one  may  find  witnesses  to  come  into  court,  and  some  evidence, 
pretty  plausible  too,  may  be  adduced  on  any  side  of  any  ques- 
tion ;  and  he  would  be  a  fool  that  would  rest  his  cause  on  the 
contradiction  which  he  might  detect  in  the  witnesses  of  the 
other  side.  The  justest  cause  would  be  lost  in  this  way. 
Yet  this  is  the  mode  which  we  have  too  much  followed.  And 
I  venture  to  say,  that  those  texts  are  too  crusty  ever  to  be  set 
aside,  except  by  diligently,  repeatedly,  constantly,  arraying  our 
texts  on  the  other  side,  and  preoccupying  the  ground  with 
them.  You  are  not  a  Unitarian  because  those  difficulties 
were  removed  first,  and  the  way  so  cleared ;  but  because  you 
got  so  settled  on  the  opposite  texts,  that  no  counter  texts  could 
move  you,  whether  explicable  or  inexplicable.  And  this  must 
be  the  true  course  ;  when  the  mind  is  filled  with  the  arguments 
for  the  Unitarian  doctrine,  they  are  so  strong,  that  the  diffi- 
culties and  obscurities  on  the  other  side  vanish  of  themselves. 


164  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

They  have  no  weight,  even  if  they  cannot  be  cleared  up.  In 
this  view  I  consider  it  more  necessary  to  be  repeating  continu- 
ally four  or  five  texts  and  simple  considerations  on  our  side, 
than  anything  else. 

"  This  leads  to  another  remark  ;  you  like  your  plan  because 
it  forbids  repetition.  I  dislike  it  for  that  very  reason.  Kepe- 
tition  is  very  necessary.  There  are  some  texts  which  ought 
not  to  be  kept  out  of  sight  a  moment ;  some  arguments  also. 
But  enough  of  this,  and  perhaps  I  do  not  precisely  enter  into 
your  plan.  At  any  rate,  through  the  Historical  books  you 
can  pursue  it  without  much  difficulty,  and  wTith  great  probable 
good. 

"  As  to  the  matter  of  preexistence,  it  were  best  to  leave  it 
alone.  It  is  of  small  consequence,  and  I  am  not  sure,  for  one, 
that  it  is  not  the  truth.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  the  language 
of  our  Lord  and  the  Apostles,  which  I  cannot  find  satisfactorily 
explained  on  any  other  supposition.  But  this  is  a  subject  on 
which  I  acknowledge  myself  profoundly  ignorant,  and  willing 
to  remain  ignorant,  till  I  reach  a  world  where  I  shall  be  more 
sure  of  knowing  the  truth." 

TO    THE    SAME. 

14  December  2,  1S22. 

"  In  regard  to  the  matter  of  catechizing,  I 

think  it  should  be  continued,  without  interruption,  through  the 
whole  year,  unless  circumstances  forbid  ;  otherwise  the  children 
may  lose,  during  the  intermission,  what  they  have  learned. 
Perhaps  an  occasional  intermission  may  be  well,  but  not  at 
regular  times.  As  to  the  mode,  I  conceive  that  the  learning 
and  repeating  of  answers  is  the  smallest  part  of  the  business. 
It  amounts  to  nothing,  unless  you  explain,  and  be  sure  they 
understand,  and  fix  ideas  in  their  minds,  rather  than  ivords  in 
their  memories.  For  example  ;  let  the  answer,  which  the  child 
gives,  be  the  basis  of  a  new  question ;  and  follow  it  up  with 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  165 

question  after  question,  and  illustration  upon  illustration,  as 
long  as  you  can  go,  and  until  you  are  sure  that  every  impor- 
tant word  is  understood,  and  every  important  truth  felt.  In 
doing  this,  appeal  as  much  as  possible  to  their  own  experience, 
and  ask  personal  questions  relating  to  their  own  conduct 
and  habits.  This  is  the  mode  which  I  have  practised,  and 
which  I  conceive  to  be  the  true  mode.  Others  pursue  the 
same.  A  great  interest  is  sometimes  excited  among  the 
children  in  this  way.  They  become  very  earnest ;  they  ask 
explanations  of  their  parents  at  home,  and  thus  do  them  good 
also.  You  sometimes,  too,  may  found  an  address  or  exhorta- 
tion to  them  on  some  sentiment  which  comes  up ;  and  this 
may  aid  you  in  forming  the  habit  of  extemporaneous  speaking. 

"  Your  former  letter,  by  mail,  I  received,  and  proceed  to 
answer  it.  I  rejoice  at  the  spirit  in  which  you  seem  to 
begin  your  winter's  work.  I  never  yet  have  doubted  you,  and 
doubt  you  less  and  less  daily.  I  am  glad  that  Greenwood  en- 
couraged you ;  it  was  just  and  kind.  I  am  glad  you  printed  in 
1  The  Unitarian  Miscellany.'  It  will  do  good  to  others,  and 
credit  to  yourself;  and  everything  will  be  good  for  you,  which 
helps  to  increase  a  just  and  rational  confidence  in  your  own 
powers. 

"  I  am  concerned  at  the  account  you  give  of  your  eyes. 
Bear  up  as  you  can,  and  make  the  best  of  it.  If  there  were 
no  other  reason,  their  situation  is  an  imperious  one  for  ridding 
yourself  of  your  troublesome  anxiety  respecting  your  devotional 
service,  of  which  you  complain.  Whenever  you  cannot  study, 
get  up  and  talk  aloud  on  some  subject.  Do  this  an  hour  a 
day ;  make  it  a  settled  habit.  Do  no  talk  at  random,  but  on  a 
given  topic,  and  as  if  you  addressed  an  audience.  Eecite,  in 
this  way,  the  last  chapter  in  morals,  or  the  last  novel,  or  ser- 
mon, which  you  have  read.  In  one  year  after  pursuing  this 
plan,  you  will  have  gained  a  facility  of  expression,  and  com- 
mand and  fluency  of  language,  which  will  enable  you  to 
preach  with  collectedness  and  confidence. 


166  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

"  Depend  upon  it,  I  do  not  exaggerate.  I,  myself,  never 
practised  half  so  much  as  this  in  private  ;  and  yet  I  speak  once 
a  week,  and  sometimes  oftener,  without  anxiety  or  failure ; 
though  sometimes  I  get  mortified.  Do  but  consider,  what  a 
saving  of  eyesight  and  anxiety  this  would  be,  and  how  much 
time  you  may,  in  the  mean  while,  redeem  by  this  mode  of 
study ;  how  many  fine  chapters  of  fine  authors  you  may  lay 
up  in  your  mind  by  thus  repeating  them  aloud  in  your  own 
words,  and  with  your  own  emendations,  &c.  &c.  Do  try  it. 
Especially,  as  regards  your  prayers,  let  your  seasons  of  private 
personal  devotion  be  more  frequent  and  longer  continued,  and 
consist  not  merely  of  a  mental  exercise,  but  of  the  audible 
utterence  of  your  sentiments  and  petitions. 

"  You  complain  of  difficulty  in  manner,  and  you  suggest 
the  only  cure, — familiarity  with  your  sermons.  No  man  can 
do  his  best,  if  he  be  a  stranger  to  his  manuscript.  Men  have, 
in  spite  of  your  skepticism,  finished  sermons  on  Wednesday. 
Some  always  do  it.  For  myself,  I  never  write  well  till  Satur- 
day; but  it  is  very  much  habit.  And,  from  what  you  say  of 
yourself,  I  conceive  that  you  have  no  duty  more  important  than 
that  of  writing  early  in  the  week,  at  least  a  great  proportion  of 
your  sermons,  that  you  may  have  time  to  read  them  over.  T 
feel  your  difficulty ;  but,  unless  you  can  find  some  other  way 
of  becoming  familiar  with  your  discourses,  you  ought,  at  any 
sacrifice,  to  take  this  mode,  and  write  on  Monday. 

"  As  to  Sunday  schools,  we  begin  to  think  them  important, 
and  shall  establish  some  soon.  I  hope  you  will  do  the  same. 
There  are  signs  of  a  better  spirit  and  growing  zeal  amongst 
us.  We  are  opening  private  Sunday  evening  lectures  among 
the  poor  in  different  parts  of  the  town,  and  intend  to  introduce 
the  Cambridge  students  to  the  good  work.  Other  matters, 
also,  too  numerous  to  tell. 

"  My  dear  wife  is  better,  and,  I  trust,  gaining.  The  babe 
is  declining,  and  probably  will  be  taken  from  us.  But  it 
could  not  go  at  a  better  age,  and  we  ought  to  be  content,  that 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.     JR.  167 

God  should  disappoint  us.  I  never  have  known  trouble,  and 
it  may  be  good  for  me. 

"  Write  when  you  can,  and  let  us  exchange  a  list  of  sub- 
jects. 

"  XuQig  xul  elgr[V7]. 

"  Your  brother  Henry." 
In  the  autumn  of  1822  he  writes 

TO    MR.  ALLEN. 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  resign  my 

editorship.  Four  years  is  long  enough  ;  and  I  do  not  feel  it 
right  to  throw  away  so  much  time  in  such  drudgery.  The 
income  is  no  compensation,  and  nothing  but  my  zeal  for  the 
cause  would  be  stimulus  enough.  I  can  now  do  more  good 
in  some  other  way. 

"  I  have  commenced  my  Friday  evening  service,  and  think 
of  a  Sunday  lecture  besides ;  to  be  preached  on  a  series  of 
connected  subjects,  by  such  gentlemen  as  may  be  willing  to 
help  me.     What  do  you  think  of  the  plan  ? " 

This  respite  from  editorial  labor  did  not  continue  a 
very  long  time ;  for,  in  the  course  of  the  next  year,  or 
next  year  but  one,  we  find  him  engaged  in  the  manage- 
ment of  "  The  Christian  Register, '?  in  connexion  with 
Messrs.  Gannett,  Lewis  Tappan,  and  Barrett,  each  of 
them  taking  charge  of  one  page.  The  paper  was 
changed  in  form  and  appearance,  and  Mr.  Ware  had 
the  general  superintendence  and  the  charge  of  all  the 
original  matter.  This  arrangement,  however,  was  only 
temporary. 

Through  this  winter,  he  was  laboring  constantly 
under  great  anxiety  with  regard  to  the  health  of  both 
his  wife  and  his  youngest  child.  On  the  2d  of  Decem- 
ber, 1822,  he  speaks  of  them  thus  : 


168  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,     JR. 

TO    MR.  ALLEN. 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  say,  that  there  is  a  gradual  and 
decided  improvement  in  Elizabeth's  health  and  appearance, 
though  I  dare  not  natter  myself.  As  to  little  Henry,  we  have 
every  reason  to  apprehend  that  he  will  not  be  spared  long. 
He  wastes  rapidly,  but  suffers  little.  Yet  we  are  not  despond- 
ent; for  we  remember  your  boy,  and  build  hopes  upon  his 
recovery. 

"  The  anxiety  and  apprehension  I  am  undergoing  in  relation 
to  my  family  are  something  new  to  me.  I  have  never  yet 
known  adversity,  nor  anything  but  the  accomplishment  of 
every  wish  of  my  heart.  No  man  has  been  more  blessed. 
But  I  have  always  thought  of  the  afflictions  which  are  inevi- 
table in  human  life,  and  trust  I  have,  in  some  measure,  pre- 
pared myself  to  meet  them.  That  I  need  them,  I  am  very 
sensible  ;  that  they  would  do  me  good,  I  cannot  doubt ;  yet 
how  earnestly  could  I  pray  that  the  cup  might  pass  from  me. 
But  then  life  would  not  answer  its  end,  and  there  are  some 
duties  of  the  ministry,  which  no  man  seems  capable  fully  of 
performing  till  he  has  met  them.     See  2  Cor.  i." 

The  child,  with  occasional  promise  of  amendment, 
continued  to  linger  till  the  middle  of  March,  1S23,  when 
its  death  is  thus  noticed : 

"  He  remained  much  in  the  state  in  which  you  saw  him, 
growing,  indeed,  a  little  weaker,  and,  toward  the  last,  suffering 
more.  He  passed  through  a  severe  agony  at  about  five  o'clock 
on  Thursday  morning ;  after  which  he  seemed  to  go  to  sleep 
quietly,  and  in  that  state  breathed  away  his  life.  We  were  as 
much  prepared  for  the  event  as  parents  probably  ever  are  ;  and 
our  first  feeling,  I  think,  wTas  one  of  relief,  that  he  was  at 
length  quit  of  his  sufferings,  and  would  never  know  pain 
more." 


r.iFi:  of   i u:\ky   WARE,    in 

The  health  of  Mrs.  Ware  fluctuated  for  a  year  longer, 
in  the  summer,  in  company  with  her  husband,  she 
made  a  short  journey  through  Pennsylvania  and  New 
York :  but,  though  her  condition  occasionally  improved 
for  short  periods,  she  regularly  declined :  and,  after  her 
return  in  the  autumn,  hardly  again  left  her  chamber. 
She  died  on  the  9th  of  February,  1824,  at  the  age  of 
thirty. 

These  were  the  first  severe  afflictions  which  my 
brother  had  ever  experienced  since  arriving  at  mature 
life.  His  letters  contain  many  intimations  of  his  sensi- 
bility to  this  exemption  from  all  great  calamities  ;  and 
the  almost  trembling  solicitude  with  which  he  looked 
forward  to  the  trial  of  his  faith  and  hope,  to  which  they 
would  subject  him,  when  they  should  occur,  as  he 
knew  they  must.  On  the  present  occasion,  as  on  the 
loss  of  his  child,  the  long  sickness  and  the  protracted 
and  unusually  severe  sufferings  of  the  deceased,  as  they 
had  prepared  him  for  the  separation,  had,  in  a  certain 
degree,  reconciled  him  to  it.     He  writes  to  a  sister  thus  : 

"  February  23,  1824. 

"  You    may   more    easily  imagine,  than   I 

could  say,  what  is  the  state  of  my  feelings,  and  how  desolate 
I  am  as  I  look  forward.  I  have  not  only  lost  a  most  devoted 
and  exemplary  wife,  but  the  event  sets  me  adrift  in  the  world, 
breaks  up  my  plans,  and  changes  my  whole  lot.  Yet  I,  per- 
haps, have  as  many  alleviations  as  fall  to  any  one's  share  in 
an  affliction  of  this  nature ;  and,  considering  the  protracted 
sufferings  to  which  she  has  been  subject,  and  which  she  would 
have  continued  to  endure,  I  look  on  it  as  a  release  for  her,  and 
pray  that  it  may  be  a  salutary  trial  for  myself.  But  there  are 
moments  when  I  hardly  know  how  to  bear  it.  Yet  I  have 
been  looking  forward  to  it  for  two  years  constantly,  and  had 
15 


170  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

become  so  familiar  with  the  expectation,  that  I  almost  feared  I 
had  grown  indifferent  to  it,  and  shuddered  at  my  own  insensi- 
bility. 

"  The  children  are  uncommonly  hearty  and  very  happy. 
They  feel  nothing  of  their  loss,  and  appear  to  regard  it  but  as 
a  visit  which  mother  is  making  to  little  Henry.  I  am  only 
middlingly  well  myself,  but,  by  air  and  exercise,  hope  to  be 
soon  strong." 

The  following  is  a  letter  to  the  sister  of  his  wife, 
Mrs.  William  Ware. 

"  Sunday,  April  1,  1824. 

"  As  to  talking,  I  have  no  heart  for  it,  and 

am  glad  to  be  silent.  I  believe  it  is  far  better  to  be  thus,  than 
at  board,  both  on  my  own  account  and  the  children's.  I  do 
not  know  that  I  could  be  more  situated  to  my  mind.  I  am  too 
much  occupied  to  have  many  hours  for  thinking  on  my  situa- 
tion, though  there  are  some,  of  a  bitterness  you  may  well 
imagine.  Sometimes  I  think  I  have  no  heart,  and  wonder  at 
my  insensibility.  At  others,  I  know  not  how  to  support  my- 
self. I  was  at  Mrs.  May's  the  other  evening,  and  Mrs.  Greele 
sung  the  whole  of  Sir  J.  E.  Smith's  Hymn,  with  such  expres- 
sion, that  I  was  completely  overcome,  and  could  bid  nobody 
good  night.  I  never  felt  the  beauty  of  that  hymn  before.  I 
was  called  to  a  wedding  last  Sunday.  It  had  not  occurred  to 
me  what  a  scene  I  was  to  witness  ;  and,  being  therefore  off  my 
guard,  when  I  found  myself  in  the  middle  of  the  service.  I 
was  quite  overcome,  and  with  difficulty  could  command  myself 
so  as  to  go  through.  Such  are  some  of  the  trials  of  feeling  I 
am  constantly  meeting;  who  is  there  that  can  enter  into  them 
as  you  can  ? 

"I  often  think  I  could  almost  complain,  that  you  must  be 
away  from  me.  There  is  none  other  that  has  been  with  me 
as  you  have,  or  whose  presence  could  now  give  me  that  inde- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE.    JR.  171 

scribable  sort  of  soothing  and  support,  which  is  just  what  I 
want,  and  all  that  I  want.  But  I  must  not  indulge  this.  To 
all  the  world  I  seem  as  I  have  always  done.  Nobody  knows 
what  my  loss  is,  or  what  I  feel  in  secret.  There  is  nobody 
but  you,  to  whom  I  can  tell  it;  and,  if  I  thought  I  should  add 
to  your  unhappiness,  I  would  hold  my  tongue.  But  I  cannot 
deny  myself  the  satisfaction  of  giving  vent  to  some  of  my 
feelings.  It  was  at  the  close  of  Sunday,  and  days  like  this, 
that,  after  the  service  of  the  day,  I  used  to  taste  the  full  and 
peculiar  enjoyment  of  domestic  happiness;  and,  at  the  return 
of  this  time,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  feel  it.  What  could  I  do 
without  the  children  ?  They  take  up  my  time  and  beguile  my 
feelings  ;  and  yet  it  is  thinking  of  them,  that  serves  to  aggra- 
vate the  sadness  of  my  situation. 

"  Dear  Mary,  I  am  not  repining,  or  murmuring  against 
Providence ;  but  I  shall  be  the  easier  for  giving  way  to  these 
expressions,  and  shall  be  the  more  composed  to  find  comfort 
in  my  prayers." 

Of  the  sources  of  consolation  to  which  he  turned, 
we  have  sufficient  indication,  by  referring  to  those 
which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  pointing  out  to  others, 
when  laboring  under  similar  afflictions.  What  these 
were,  and  in  what  manner  he  was  accustomed  to  ex- 
hibit them,  can  in  no  mode  be  so  well  displayed,  as 
by  introducing  the  two  following  letters,  not  written, 
indeed,  at  this  period,  or  with  reference  to  his  own  state 
of  mind,  but  still  most  suitable  to  be  read  in  connexion 
with  this,  the  greatest  trial  of  the  kind  which  he  was 
called  on  to  encounter.  It  should  be  observed  concern- 
ing the  second  letter,  that  it  was  written  at  the  request 
of  a  friend,  who  desired  his  aid  in  removing  certain 
painful  associations  in  her  mind  with  regard  to  death. 


172 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 


"My  dear  Sir, 

"  I  have  been  more  concerned  than  I  can  express,  to  hear 
of  your  affliction,  and  take  the  earliest  moment  to  assure  you 
of  my  sincere  and  deep  sympathy.  Your  boy  appeared  to  me 
a  child  of  promise  as  great  as  parents  are  ever  blessed  with. 
You  had  a  right,  as  far  as,  in  the  uncertainty  of  earthly  things, 
we  can  ever  have  a  right,  to  place  your  hopes  upon  him,  and 
calculate  upon  deriving  happiness  from  what  he  should  be  and 
do.  I  believe  I  can  imagine,  in  some  measure,  what  must  be 
the  feelings  of  a  parent  at  the  removal  of  such  an  object  of 
affection  and  hope.  I  have  often  looked  upon  my  own  boy  with 
the  apprehension  that  he  might  be  taken  from  me  when  I  was 
cherishing  him  most  dearly ;  and  I  have  known  that  the  grief 
of  a  parent  must  be  most  bitter  indeed.  But,  then,  we  have 
been  accustomed,  in  the  cultivation  of  our  religious  spirit,  to 
reflect  on  the  appointments  of  Providence,  and  to  feel  that 
all  blessings  are  merely  lent  by  God's  favor,  and  are  to  be 
recalled  at  his  pleasure.  We  have  enjoyed  them  as  temporary 
possessions  only,  and  we  yield  them  up  to  Him  who  gave  them, 
not  without  sorrow  at  the  parting,  but  yet  as  an  event  by  no 
means  unexpected. 

"  It  is  now  that  we  find  the  value  of  our  religion,  and  can 
rejoice  that  we  are  Christians.  If  it  were  not  for  the  firm  persua- 
sion that  this  is  true,  and  for  the  confidence  and  trust  which  it 
may  inspire,  it  seems  to  me  the  hour  of  sorrow  would  be  utter 
darkness.  Without  the  knowledge  of  a  just  and  fatherly 
Providence,  which  we  obtain  here, — without  the  glorious  truths, 
promises,  and  hopes,  which  we  find  here, —  what  is  there  that 
could  give  any  tranquillity,  could  reconcile  us  at  all  to  adversity, 
or  save  us  from  absolute  dismay  of  heart  and  despair?  If  I 
did  not  feel  any  of  the  trust  which  religion  gives,  I  should 
leave  my  mourning  friends  to  themselves;  I  could  not  speak 
to  you.  I  should  regard  it  as  an  empty  mockery  of  their 
sufferings.  For  the  amount  of  consolation  then  would  be ; 
*  You  cannot  help  it, — you  cannot  help  it.     And  what  comfort 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  173 

is  there  in  that  ?  How  I  rejoice,  then,  that  we  are  Christians. 
For,  if  men  will  open  their  hearts,  a  balm  may  be  poured  in, 
which  shall  soothe  the  most  troubled  soul.  Now  we  can  say, 
not  only,  '  You  cannot  help  it,'  but,  '  It  is  well  that  you  can- 
not.'" 

11  My  dear  Mrs.  T . 


"  I  have  this  moment  received  your  letter  of  the  day  before 
yesterday,  and  hasten  to  reply.  I  was  overcome  with  surprise 
at  hearing  of  Mr.  A.'s  death;  for  T  had  hoped,  from  your 
report,  that  he  was  recovering.  I  can  fully  sympathize  with 
your  feelings  at  his  removal, — valued  friend  that  he  was,  and 
full  of  promise  as  his  character  and  talents  were.  But  your 
first  feeling,  of  course,  must  be,  that,  the  more  fit  he  was  to 
live,  the  more  fit  to  die  ;  the  greater  reason  there  may  be  for 
mourning,  the  greater  reason  for  being  comforted  ;  and  the 
thought  of  what  he  was,  the  pleasant  recollections  that  are 
associated  with  his  name,  will  give  a  sort  of  melancholy  pleas- 
ure amid  grief;  while  the  thought  of  what  he  is,  and  the 
expectation  of  meeting  him  again  in  a  higher  state,  will  give 
at  times  even  a  joyfulness  to  your  mind. 

"  I  say,  the  thought  of  what  he  is.  You  have  seen  his  body 
resting  in  its  dark  house,  and  have  come  away,  you  say,  im- 
pressed with  that  unpleasant  image.  But  is  that  he  ?  Is  that 
body  the  friend  that  you  loved  ?  Certainly  not ;  he  is  farther 
from  that  tomb  than  you  are,  and  does  not  waste  a  thought 
upon  it.  Why  then  should  you  ?  When  I  think  of  what  he 
is,  I  am  thinking  of  the  spirit,— I  forget  the  body;  I  almost 
forget  that  he  ever  had  a  body  ;  I  fancy  him  to  myself  living, 
rejoicing  among  the  spirits  of  heaven  ;  and,  while  I  think  of 
him  thus,  I  feel  quite  as  much  delight  as  sadness.  This  is 
what  I  think  you  should  make  an  effort  to  do.  Why  should 
you  be  turning  your  thoughts  at  all  to  the  poor  clay  he  has 
left  behind,  when  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  turn  them  to 
15* 


174  LTFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

those  pure  and  happy  scenes  where  he  is  now  enjoying,  as  we 
may  reasonably  trust,  such  felicity  as  earth  cannot  give  ? 

"  Let  me  tell  you  a  word  of  my  own  experience.  I  have 
lost  many  very  near  and  dear  friends ;  but  I  declare  to  you, 
that,  by  following  this  rule  which  I  advise  you  to  follow',  I 
have  always  found  more  than  consolation,  even  a  high  and  sin- 
gular pleasure  in  the  midst  of  grief.  I  have  forced  my  mind 
away  from  the  body,  the  tomb,  the  decay,  and  have  allowed  it 
to  think  only  of  the  immortal  soul,  freed  from  earth  and  happy 
in  heaven.  I  have  buried  my  dead, — that  is,  their  bodies, — 
not  only  out  of  sight,  but  out  of  mind.  I  have  not  suffered 
myself  to  feel  that  my  friends  are  dead,  but  only  that  they 
have  gone  home,  are  living  in  another  place,  a  better  place, — 
still  thinking,  active,  loving,  and  happy  ;  thus,  in  fact,  they  are 
not  dead  to  me ;  as  our  Saviour  teaches,  they  all  are  alive 
unto  God.  So  unto  my  heart  they  are  alive  ;  and  I  scarcely 
am  conscious  that  they  ever  had  bodies  that  could  decay. 
They,  themselves,  are  imperishable. 

11  I  lately  removed  to  Mount  Auburn  the  remains  of  two, 
dearly  beloved,  and  long  since  gone.  I  opened  the  coffins,  and 
saw  that  nothing  remained  but  dust.  There  was  nothing  in 
this  at  all  unpleasant  to  my  feelings  ;  quite  otherwise ;  for  it 
made  me  feel  a  sort  of  triumph  in  the  faith,  that  Death  had 
done  his  worst,  and  yet  that  he  had  not  touched  my  friends. 
They  were  not  here.  I  had  been  thinking  of  them,  and  almost 
speaking  to  them,  for  years,  as  the  happy  and  glorified  crea- 
tures of  heaven.  I  could  not  fancy  them  as  having  anything 
to  do  with  that  poor  dust  before  me ;  and  the  sight  of  it  only 
served  to  awaken  gratitude  to  my  Saviour,  and  strengthen  my 
feeling  of  nearness  to  heaven. 

"  Excuse  me  for  dwelling  thus  on  my  own  case.  I  have 
done  it  because  I  felt  I  could  thus  more  easily  explain  what  I 
mean,  when  I  beg  you  to  think  no  more  of  the  perishing  body. 
Why  should  you  not  come  from  the  tomb  of  your  friend,  as  I 
came  from  that  of  mine,  lifted  to  heaven,  rather  than  troubled 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  175 

by  earth's  darkness  and  decay  ?  Why  should  you  not  come 
away  repeating  to  yourself  the  words  of  the  angel,  '  He  is  not 
there  ;  he  is  risen.' 

"  You  will  gather,  from  what  I  have  expressed,  my  views 
on  the  two  points  about  which  you  particularly  ask  me.  The 
truth  is,  my  dear  friend,  that  I  have  the  fullest  and  most 
undoubting  conviction,  that  the  soul,  immediately  on  the  death 
of  the  body,  passes  to  its  final  state  ;  that  consciousness  is  not 
for  a  moment  interrupted;  and  that  death  is,  in  fact,  to  the 
spirit,  nothing  more  than  going  from  one  mansion  of  the  Great 
Father's  house  to  another.  I  do  not  feel,  therefore,  as  if  my 
friends  were  dead  ;  my  feeling  is,  that  they  do  not  die  ;  '  He 
that  belie veth  in  me  shall  never  die.'  Do  you  remember 
Newton's  beautiful  hymn  ? 

"  '  In  vain  the  fancy  strives  to  paint 
The  moment  after  death, 
The  glories  that  surround  the  saints, 
On  yielding  up  their  breath. 

"  '  One  gentle  sigh  their  fetters  breaks ! 
We  scarce  can  say  they  're  gone, 
Before  the  willing  spirit  takes 
Her  mansion  near  the  throne.' 

"  This  seems  tome  the  true  expression  ;  and  then,  when  we 
too  quit  the  flesh  and  follow  them,  I  think  we  shall  as  certainly 
know  them  there  as  we  knew  them  here.  I  cannot  conceive 
it  should  be  otherwise.  It  cannot  be,  that  they  and  we  shall 
be  worshipping  together  through  eternity  in  heaven,  perhaps, 
side  by  side,  and  not  know  each  other.  I  am  as  confident 
that  I  shall  know  them,  as  that  I  shall  know  my  Saviour  ;  it 
would  be  absurd  to  suppose,  that  the  twelve  Apostles  will  not 
know  each  other,  or  that  Paul  and  his  converts  will  not,  when 
he  has  called  them  his  crown  of  joy,  in  the  day  of  the  Lord. 
Yet  if  they  are  to  recognize  each  other  and  renew  the  friend- 
ship and  intercourse  of  earth,  so  must  it  be  with  all  the  faith- 
ful ;  and  it  is  a  most  beautiful  and  comforting  thought. 


176  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

"  If  I  have  at  all  met  your  wishes,  I  shall  be  grateful ;  and, 
if  I  can  clear  up  anything  further,  say  so,  and  let  me  write 
again.  I  feel  that  it  is  not  always  easy  to  enter  into  another's 
feelings,  and  I  may  have  failed  to  do  so  now.  Indeed,  I 
always  feel  the  insufficiency  of  human  aid,  and  the  appropri- 
ateness of  the  Psalmist's  prayer,  '  Give  Thou  help  from  trouble, 
for  vain  is  the  help  of  man.'  May  He  bless  you  and  yours. 
"  Very  sincerely,  your  friend, 

*  "  H.  Ware,  Jr." 

By  the  death  of  his  wife,  my  brother  was  left  in 
charge  of  two  children,  at  an  age  peculiarly  requiring  a 
mother's  care.  He  was  not  well  adapted,  by  his  natu- 
ral temperament,  or  by  his  acquired  habits,  to  be  charged 
with  this  responsibility  alone.  Though  not  at  all  insen- 
sible to  the  proper  relation  and  duties  of  a  parent,  he 
naturally  tended  to  an  abstracted  state  of  mind,  to  a 
complete  absorption  in  his  own  thoughts  and  his  own 
occupations,  which  led  to  a  species  of  neglect  of  those 
thousand  little  points,which  are  so  necessary  to  domestic 
discipline,  but  which  can  only  be  properly  attended  to 
by  a  mother. 

In  his  case,  also,  the  confidence  which  he  had  felt, 
that  the  interest  of  his  children,  in  this  particular,  would 
always  be  cared  for,  had  made  him  easy  in  the  indul- 
gence of  the  desire  to  devote  himself,  perhaps  too  exclu- 
sively, to  his  studies,  his  parish,  and  the  public.  For 
some  months  after  his  wife's  death  he  continued  house- 
keeping, with  the  aid  of  his  sister  Harriet,  afterwards 
Mrs.  Edward  B.  Hall.  This  arrangement  lasted  till  the 
autumn,  when  he  gave  up  his  house.  His  children,  still 
under  the  charge  of  the  same  sister,  were  sent  to  North- 
borough,  into  the  family  of  Mr.  Allen,  and  he  himself 
took  lodgings  at  Mr.  Heywoocl's.  one  of  his  parishioners, 
residing  in  Salem  Street. 


CHAPTER    X. 

STATE  OF  HIS  CHURCH  AND  PARISH — POEM  ON  THE  VISIT  OF  LAFAY- 
ETTE—  EXTEMPORANEOUS  PREACHING  — VARIOUS  PUBLICATIONS  — 
COMMENTARY  ON  THE  BIBLE  — AMERICAN  UNITARIAN  ASSOCIATION 
FORMED  — BUNKER-HILL    MONUMENT   CELEBRATION. 

1824-25.     JET.  30-31. 

The  following  letters  relate  to  some  of  the  subjects 
and  events  which  interested  him  during  the  season  sub- 
sequent to  the  occurrences  recorded  in  the  last  chapter. 

to  mrs.  william  ware. 

"  May  24,  1824. 

"  There  is  no  time  for  writing  like  that  when  one  has  just 
received  a  letter ;  and  therefore  I  begin  this  the  moment  I  have 
read  yours  by  Mr.  Fox.  It  is  Election  week,  and  I  shall 
probably  not  be  able  to  finish  till  Saturday;  but  I  will  at  once 
pour  out  my  egotism,  as  you  express  yourself  to  have  been 
concerned,  from  my  silence,  lest  I  was  not  well.  It  was  only 
my  eyes,  and  my  driving  about  the  parish.  My  eyes  are 
better,  and  my  health  is  greatly  improved  by  my  constant  exer- 
cise abroad.  Since  March,  I  have  made  about  three  hundred 
parish  visits,  besides  many  others.  I  have  about  forty  families 
yet  to  visit.  I  intend  to  persevere  in  the  same  course  through 
the  summer,  as  I  find  I  do  good,  and  may  thus  prevent  the 
necessity  of  journeying.  My  seeing  New  York  is  out  of  the 
question,  as  I  said  in  my  last.  I  shall  go  to  New  Bedford  and 
Nantucket,  but  probably  not  elsewhere. 


178  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

"  I  talk  of  sending  Harriet  and  the  children  to  Northborough 
for  a  month,  if  Lucy  can  have  them;  and,  as  she  wishes  to 
make  a  visit  home,  I  shall  have  a  few  weeks  entirely  alone. 
I  shall  not  be  sorry  for  this.  I  have  not  been  enough  alone, 
and  I  do  not  care  how  much  time  I  have  for  the  parish,  now 
that  I  feel  engaged  in  seeing  it.  We  are  organizing  our 
church  as  a  religious  and  charitable  Society ;  to  have  quar- 
terly meetings,  to  aid  benevolent  purposes,  to  help  each  other 
in  temporal  and  religious  things,  and  to  promote  a  spirit  of 
union  and  mutual  acquaintance  and  interest.  I  think  we  shall 
also  try  a  plan,  which  Mr.  Walker  has  adopted.  The  mem- 
bers, in  rotation,  invite  such  as  they  are  acquainted  with  to 
spend  Sunday  evening  at  their  houses  in  religious  conversa- 
tion, the  minister  with  them.  Thus,  different  circles  meeting 
at  different  places,  by  and  by  all  the  members  meet  and  become 
known  to  all  others.     Great  good  must  come  from  it." 

Of  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Gannett,  as  colleague  with 
Dr.  Charming,  he  says,  July  6th,  1S24 : 

"  We  had  a  most  delightful  ordination  on  Wednesday.  It 
is  not  possible  for  you  to  conceive  the  excitement  produced  by 
Dr.  Channing.  I  never  have  seen  the  enthusiasm  equalled. 
To  hear  such  a  sermon,  is  one  of  the  memorable  things  in  a 
man's  life.  It  forms  ah  epoch  in  his  existence.  You  will 
soon  see  it,  I  trust.  Gannett  excites  a  strong  interest  in  the 
parish,  and  he  will  doubtless  be  a  great  acquisition  to  the 
town." 

The  first  of  the  above  letters  refers  to  a  plan,  which 
he  had  carried  into  effect,  to  increase  the  prosperity  of 
the  church,  to  promote  its  religious  influence  and  its 
power  of  doing  good,  by  giving  it  a  more  social  aspect, 
and  to  use  means  for  creating  sympathy  and  securing 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    IK.  179 

cooperation  among  its  members.  His  own  words,  how- 
ever, will  serve  best  to  explain  his  views.  They  are 
contained  in  a  report  made  to  the  church. 

"  The  great  principle,  on  which  the  prosperity  and  edifica- 
tion of  the  church  must  depend,  appears  to  your  committee  to 
have  been  entirely  overlooked  in  the  general  habits  of  all  the 
churches  with  which  we  are  connected.  This  is  the  princi- 
ple of  association,  anion,  sympathy,  cooperation.  The  church 
is,  in  its  very  essence,  an  association.  Its  very  design  and 
constitution  is  to  effect  the  purposes  of  personal  improvement, 
and  to  extend  the  influence  of  religion,  by  mutual  counsel,  aid, 
and  cooperation.  Hence,  the  Apostles  emphatically  call  it 
one  body,  and  its  members,  members  one  of  another. 

"  If  this  be  forgotten,  and,  instead  of  a  constant  union  in 
worship  and  action,  Christians  only  meet  infrequently  at  the 
table  of  the  Lord,  this  primary  purpose  is  lost  sight  of,  and  it 
cannot,  therefore,  be  expected  that  the  greatest  religious  pros- 
perity should  be  attained.  When  Jesus  framed  the  model  of 
his  church,  he  in  a  manner  set  the  example,  the  first  example, 
of  that  union  by  systematic  association,  which  has  since  ex- 
tended so  far,  and  has  wrought  such  powerful  effects  in  the 
world.  Is  it,  then,  consistent,  that  the  church  should  be  the 
first  to  relinquish  this  principle  ?  And  must  it  not  be  expected 
to  become  weak  and  inefficient  by  abandoning  it,  just  in  pro- 
portion as  it  first  became  strong  by  adhering  to  it?  Let  us, 
then,  henceforth  resolve  to  regard  this  church  as  an  associa- 
tion, actually  and  actively  united  for  the  accomplishment  of 
religious  and  benevolent  purposes." 

The  result  of  this  attempt  was  not  only  an  increased 
activity,  zeal,  and  religious  interest  in  the  church,  but 
the  gradual  accumulation,  by  voluntary  contributions, 
of  a  fund,  which  was  at  length  sufficient  for  the  erec- 
tion of  a  spacious  and  commodious  vestry. 


180  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JE. 

The  Society,  in  the  mean  time,  had  been  constantly 
increasing.  The  meeting-house,  which  had  remained 
unaltered  from  its  original  construction,  was  so  arranged, 
in  the  old-fashioned  manner,  as  to  accommodate  but 
few  hearers  in  proportion  to  its  size.  Several  slight 
alterations  had  been  made  from  time  to  time,  to  increase 
its  capacity;  but,  in  the  summer  of  1823,  it  was  deter- 
mined to  remodel  it  entirely.  The  interior  was  accord- 
ingly taken  out,  new  galleries  were  made,  the  pews 
were  reduced  in  size,  and  their  number  was  increased. 
There  was,  as  a  consequence,  a  very  considerable  addi- 
tion to  the  number  of  families  in  the  congregation. 

The  summer  of  1824  was  rendered  memorable  by  the 
visit  of  Lafayette  to  the  United  States.  He  visited 
Boston  in  the  latter  part  of  August,  and  attended  the 
Commencement  at  Harvard  College  in  the  last  week  of 
that  month.  Mr.  Ware  participated  deeply  in  the  gen- 
eral enthusiasm  excited  by  this  event,  and  was  acci- 
dentally led  to  take  a  part  in  the  public  services  to 
which  it  gave  occasion.  Lafayette  had  accepted  an 
invitation  to  attend  the  annual  celebration  of  the  Soci- 
ety of  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  on  the  day  after  Commence- 
ment. The  selection  of  Mr.  Edward  Everett,  as  the 
orator  of  the  year,  rendered  it  certain  that  so  far  the 
literary  entertainment  of  the  day  would  be  worthy  of 
the  occasion.  But  the  person  originally  appointed  to 
deliver  a  poem  failed  to  make  his  appearance,  and  my 
brother  came  to  supply  his  place  under  the  circum- 
stances described  below. 

"  August  28,  1824. 
"  You  may,  perhaps,  guess  what  an  exhilar- 
ating week  this  has  been.     Nothing  can  exceed  the  splendor 


LIFI-;    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  Is! 

and  happiness  of  the  occasion.  The  scenes  in  the  meeting 
house,  and  at  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  dinner,  beggar  description. 
You  have  seen,  by  the  paper,  that  I  presumed  to  manufacture 
a  poem  for  the  occasion.  It  happened  thus.  On  Sunday 
evening,  Father  told  me  two  remarkable  dreams  of  Mr.  Pack- 
ard and  Mrs.  Fluker,  about  the  year  1794.  They  struck  my 
fancy,  and,  amid  the  strong  excitement  of  the  week,  I  versi- 
fied them ;  and,  Percival  not  appearing,  I  offered  to  declaim 
them.  I  hope  I  have  escaped  the  charge  of  presumption, 
which  I  suppose  I  deserved,  but,  in  the  fervor  of  the  season, 
had  no  time  to  think  of.  If  any  assail  me  with  it,  '  I  '11  print 
it,  and  shame  the  fools.' 

"  Everett's  oration  was  very  fine.  The  con- 
cluding address  to  Lafayette  was  one  of  the  most  affecting  and 
overpowering  efforts. of  eloquence  I  ever  witnessed;  it  shook 
the  whole  audience,  and  bathed  every  face  in  tears.  When  he 
sat  down,  it  was  followed  with  nine  cheers  and  an  interminable 
clapping.  Luckily  I  had  spoken  first.  Two  hundred  dined 
with  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  and  there  was  a  stream  of  wit  and 
fine  feeling  flashing  and  flowing  for  two  hours,  with  a  bril- 
liancy and  rapidity  that  left  no  time  to  drink  or  speak,  or  to 
hear  anything  but  cheerings,  and  clappings,  and  laughings. 
Lafayette  enjoyed  it  highly,  and  cannot  meet  anything  in 
America  to  surpass  or  equal  what  he  has  seen  and  enjoyed 
this  week.  What  a  favored  man  is  he  !  enjoying  '  a  triumph,'  as 
Everett  very  wTell  said,  '  such  as  consuls  and  monarchs  never 
knew.'  One  toast  of  Lafayette,  at  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  has 
not  found  its  way  into  the  paper ;  it  was  a  comparison  of  the 
political  institutions  of  America  with  those  of  Europe,  and 
ended  with  an  application  of  these  words  of  Cicero :  '  Quae 
est  in  hominibus  tanta  perversitas,  ut,  frugibus  inventis, 
glande  vescantur  ? '  " 

It  is  not   intended  to  give  an  account  of  all    Mr. 
Ware's  literary  productions  in  each  year,  as  we  pass 
16 


182  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,     JR. 

over  it.  The  more  important  ones  will  require  some 
notice ;  but.  for  the  remainder,  the  reader  is  referred  to 
the  complete  list  of  his  published  writings,  given  at 
the  close  of  the  work. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1824.  he  published  an  Es- 
say, entitled  "  Hints  on  Extemporaneous  Preaching.7' 
Tins  subject  had  engaged  a  considerable  share  of  his 
attention  for  some  years,  as  is  shown  by  several  allu- 
sions in  his  letters  from  Exeter.  He  had  a  strong 
impression  of  the  value  of  the  ability  to  preach  extem- 
poraneously,— of  the  greater  impression  which  is  fre- 
quently thus  produced, — of  the  absolute  necessity, 
under  some  circumstances,  of  being  able  to  improve 
particular  occasions  to  the  advantage  of  hearers,  by 
remarks  suggested  by  time,  place,  and  events.  He  was 
not  naturally  fluent;  he  had  not  that  ready  current  of 
words  which  flows  from  some  persons  without  effort, 
and  often  without  ideas.  Besides  this,  a  constitutional 
diffidence,  or  rather,  it  might  be  called,  bashfulness, 
stood  very  much  in  the  way  of  his  efforts;  and, 
although  sufficiently  self-possessed  when  speaking  in 
public  with  common  preparation,  he  was  much  less  so 
when  attempting  to  address  an  audience  without  a 
written  discourse.  Still,  his  strong  conviction  of  the 
importance  of  this  accomplishment  induced  him  to  per- 
severe in  acquiring  it.  His  first  attempts  were  made  in 
the  weekly  evening  meetings  which  he  held  with  his 
people;  and  it  was  not  till  after  long-continued  disci- 
pline here,  that  he  ventured  to  trust  himself  in  the 
delivery  of  an  unwritten  discourse  from  the  pulpit.  He 
did  this  for  the  first  time  in  August,  1819,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  "the  Pharisee  and  the  Publican."  From  this 
time,  to  the  end  of  his  ministry,  he  continued  the  prac- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKK.    JR.  1S3 

tice.  About  one  in  six  or  seven  of  the  new  discourses, 
which  he  prepared  in  every  year  afterwards,  was 
extemporaneous.  Of  the  labor  and  difficulty  which 
attended  him  in  this  discipline,— of  his  frequent  mis- 
givings and  imperfections,  and  sometimes,  as  he 
regarded  them,  failures,  he  frequently  spoke  in  his 
letters. 

to  his  brother  william. 

"  April  6,  1827. 
"  Don't  give  up  the  ship  for  one  unfortunate  fire.  Why,  I 
have  suffered  worse  than  Indian  torture  fifty  times ;  but  then  I 
had  Indian  perseverance ;  and  it  is  only  by  not  flinching,  that 
we  can  gain  the  great  end  at  last.  You  must  expect,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  sometimes  to  do  ill.  The  state  of  mind, 
state  of  health,  stomach  and  bowels,  nature  of  the  dinner  you 
have  just  eaten,  &c.  &c,  all  these  unaccountably  affect  the 
power  of  the  mind.  And,  then,  sometimes  you  will  make  too 
much  preparation,  that  is,  try  to  arrange  words,  and  some- 
times make  too  little,  that  is,  arrange  no  thoughts,  and  in 
either  case  you  will  flounder.  After  beginning,  it  were 
wicked  to  be  disheartened.  Up  again,  and  take  another; 
that 's  the  mode  in  which  children  learn  to  walk,  and  by  which 
you  must  learn  to  talk." 

He  persevered  through  all  discouragements,  and 
at  length  acquired  a  great  readiness  at  extemporaneous 
speaking,  especially  on  the  occasions  for  which  he 
chiefly  valued  it,  viz.,  where  some  event  or  circum- 
stance, as  in  public  meetings,  for  instance,  required 
immediate  attention.  Under  such  circumstances  he 
spoke  most  easily  and  most  happily  without  any  prep- 
aration, uttering  the  thoughts  which  were  suggested 
at  the  time.     The  extemporaneous   discourses,  which 


184  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

were  delivered  in  the  regular  course  of  his  duty,  were 
prepared  with  considerable  care,  and  probably  very 
little  time  or  study,  if  any,  was  saved  by  this  method. 
Still,  it  proved  a  most  valuable  aid  to  him  in  after  life, 
when,  from  disease  of  the  eyes,  he  was  unable  to  write 
out  his  sermons  at  length,  or  even  to  read  those  which 
were  written. 

The  results  of  his  reflection  and  experience  on  this 
subject  were  embodied  in  the  work  just  mentioned.  It 
met  with  much  favor,  and  he  received  from  persons  of 
many  denominations  expressions '  of  the  satisfaction 
which  had  attended  its  perusal. 

The  habit  which  he  had  labored  so  faithfully  to 
acquire  himself,  he  labored  to  induce  others  to  acquire ; 
and  one  object  of  his  exertions,  when  he  was  subse- 
quently an  instructor  of  young  clergymen,  was  to 
induce  them  to  aim  at  this  accomplishment,  and  to 
assist  them  in  attaining  it.  This  book  has  passed 
through  several  editions,  both  in  this  country  and  in 
Europe. 

He  also  published,  in  the  same  year,  "The  Recol- 
lections of  Jotham  Anderson,"  intended  to  illustrate  the 
life  of  a  New  England  country  clergyman.  It  appeared 
originally  in  "The  Christian  Register,"  in  separate 
numbers,  afterwards  collected  into  a  volume,  of  which 
two  or  more  editions  have  been  printed.  This  book, 
though  professedly  fictitious,  embodies  many  recollec- 
tions of  his  own  early  life,  and  many  of  the  experiences 
of  his  more  mature  years.  There  is  probably  very  lit- 
tle of  it  which  has  not  its  foundation  in  reality,  though 
no  part  in  which  the  story  is  an  exact  picture  of  life.  It 
was  published  anonymously,  but  the  authorship  was 
suspected  some  time  before  it  was  actually  acknowl- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  185 

edged.     In  a  letter  of  March  9th,  1825,  lie  thus  speaks 
of  it : 

"  I  hear  that  it  is  reported  at  Martha's  Vineyard,  that  I 
wrote  '  Jotham  Anderson.'  Do  you  know  anything  about  it  ? 
I  see  the  old  gentleman  is  at  work  again,  and  would  be  as 
glad  to  know  if  it  is  J,  as  Sosia  was  to  know  himself.  My 
impartial  judgment  would  lead  me  to  decide  it  can't  be  I ;  for 
I  don't  see  how  in  the  world  I  could  find  time  for  it  now, 
while  I  am  writing  tales  for  children,  and  carrying  a  volume 
of  sermons  through  the  press.  My  impression,  therefore,  is, 
that  the  folks  at  Edgarton  Old-town  must  be  a  little  mis- 
taken." 

The  other  productions  referred  to  in  this  extract 
were,  a  little  book,  written  for  the  amusement  and 
instruction  of  his  son,  called  "  Robert  Fowle,"  which 
he  also  published  ;  and  a  volume  of  "  Sermons  on  the 
Offices  and  Character  of  Jesus  Christ,"  which  he  printed 
in  the  spring  of  1825.  These  discourses  were  not  pre- 
pared with  any  view  to  publication.  They  were  writ- 
ten in  the  ordinary  course  of  ministerial  labor,  at 
various  times:  but,  constituting  a  tolerably  connected 
series,  and  exhibiting  what  he  thought  important  views 
of  the  subjects  to  which  they  related,  he  believed  their 
publication  would  be  useful.  They  were  extensively 
circulated,  and  afterwards  reprinted. 

About  the  same  period  he  projected,  and  began  the 
preparation  of,  a  "  Commentary  and  Family  Bible.'5 
He  writes  thus  of  it  : 

TO   MR.    ALLEN. 

"  I  am  seriously  thinking  of  undertaking  a  Commentary 
and  Family  BibK     Who  else  will  do  it  ?     With  my  feelings 


186  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

of  its  importance,  is  it  not  my  duty  ?  The  task  is  enough  to 
frighten  one ;  but  it  must  be  done  by  somebody. — and 
he  must  remember  the  Discontented  Pendulum.  What  do 
you  advise  me  ?  Father  rather  urges  it ;  he  mentioned  it  of 
his  own  accord.  Walker  says,  that  it  will  be  as  well  received 
from  me  as  from  any  one,  and  that  he  knows  no  one  else  who 
is  likely  to  grapple  with  it.  Tell  me  what  you  think.  I 
frankly  confess  it  appalls  me,  and  I  think  myself  better  suited 
to  something  else.  I  have  not  the  learning,  &c,  and  my 
habits  of  thinking  and  writing  give  me  a  predilection  for  some 
other  wrork.  But  I  must  do  something, — and  is  not  a  man 
bound  to  do  what  he  knows  will  be  most  useful,  if  he  has  rea- 
son to  think  he  can  do  it  usefully?  And,  if  people  tell  him 
so,  must  he  not  think  so  ?  I  want  to  decide  soon  ;  for,  unless 
I  have  something  on  hand,  I  waste  time  too  abominably  for 
man  to  bear,  wrho  has  an  account  to  give.  Besides,  in  my 
solitary  state,  I  cannot  be  happy  without  an  object,  which 
shall  strongly  interest  and  engross  me.  I  only  want  to  know 
what  that  object  should  be;  a  poem, —  a  romance, — a  system 
of  divinity, — a  history,— or  anything  that  I  can  do.  Let  me 
know  what,  and  I  '11  go  to  work." 

June  16th,  he  says  :  "  I  have  begun  my  Commentary 
in  earnest,  and  have  revised  the  translation  as  far  as 
Matthew,  xi." 

To  this  attempt  he  had  been  rather  urged  by  others 
than  led  by  his  own  preference.  Labor  of  this  kind 
was  somewhat  distasteful  to  him.  His  studies  and 
habits  of  thought  had  not  led  him  in  this  direction.  It 
was,  besides,  a  task  requiring  too  long  attention  to  one 
object,  for  a  person  of  his  temperament,  which  disposed 
him  to  engage  in  enterprises  to  be  completed  by  a  few 
short,  frequent,  and  vigorous  efforts,  rather  than  in 
such  as  required  protracted  and  patient  labor.     Hence, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  187 

although  for  many  years  he  occasionally  worked  upon 
this  Commentary,  and  made  some  progress,  he  never 
entered  into  it  with  that  zeal  and  earnestness,  which 
were,  with  him.  essential  to  the  accomplishment  of  his 
purposes. 

In  the  "  anniversary  week"  in  May,  of  this  year, 
1825,  was  formed  the  American  Unitarian  Association; 
an  event  in  which  he  took  much  interest,  and  which  he 
did  much  to  promote.  "  Have  you  heard,"  he  wrote 
to  his  brother,  June  9th,  "  of  our  great  '  American  Uni- 
tarian Association,'  formed  in  Election  week?  I  hope 
something  from  it.  Burton  is  scouring  the  land  for 
auxiliaries.  You  must  have  one  in  New  York.  The 
officers  are,  E.  S.  Gannett,  Secretary,  (and  his  whole 
soul  in  it,)  Lewis  Tappan,  Treasurer,  (and  his  soul 
the  same,)  A.  Norton,  J.  Sparks,  and  J.  Walker.  Direc- 
tors. The  objects  of  it,  cheap  doctrinal  tracts,  mission- 
ary preachers,  and  a  bond  of  union  to  all  of  the  name 
throughout  America.  We  have  a  Vice-President  in 
every  section  of  the  country,  all  laymen."  Of  this 
Association  he  was  always  an  active  member,  and,  both 
as  Foreign  Secretary  and  as  one  of  the  Directors,  took 
a  constant  interest  in  it,  and  contributed  much  to  its 
successful  operation. 

In  May,  he  writes  thus 

TO    HIS    SISTER    HARRIET. 

"  I  do  not  at  all  wonder  that  you  are 

inclined  sometimes  to  distrust  yourself  wholly ;  for  there  is  no 
more  difficult  task.  You  are  very  inexperienced,  and  those 
who  have  had  the  most,  and  the  most  successful,  experience, 
are  very  prone  to  be  dissatisfied  with  themselves.  It  is  a 
painful  state  of  mind,  to  be  sure;  but  salutary,  I  believe; — 


188 


LITE    OF    HEXRY    WARE.    JR. 


for,  when  one  is  quite  self-satisfied,  one  ceases  to  take  the 
necessary  pains  to  do  well.  We  need  the  feeling  of  deficiency 
to  keep  us  awake  and  active.  So,  also,  in  regard  to  your 
own  personal  improvement,  that  sense  of  deficiency,  which  is 
sometimes  almost  desponding,  operates  to  keep  one  humble, 
and  to  show  the  necessity  of  continued  watchfulness  and  exer- 
tion. What  person  did  you  ever  know  to  improve,  who 
felt  perfectly  satisfied  ?  Who  ever  became  all  that  he  ought  to 
be,  that  fancied  himself  already  such  ? 

••  I  have  felt  all  that  you  describe  ;  I  have  been  spell-bound 
and  harassed  by  the  same  constitutional  thoughtlessness  and 
carelessness.  It  subjects  me  to  constant  mortifications  and 
shame ;  and  my  great  misfortune  is,  that  my  success  in  my 
calling,  which  I  never  can  think  of  without  amazement,  serves 
to  render  me  too  insensible  to  a  fault,  which  I  am  ready  to 
think  hidden  by  attainments  in  other  particulars.  I  mention 
this  only  to  show,  that  I  fully  enter  into  your  case. 

11 '  Where,  then,  is  the  remedy?'  you  ask.  In  the  remedy 
for  all  habits,  which  grow  up,  as  this  has  done,  from  natural 
tendencies  and  long  neglect  of  counteraction ;  only  in  equally 
long  struggles  against  it,  long  and  patient  effort,  continued  and 
unrelaxing  perseverance.  It  must  be  made  a  business, — per- 
haps the  business  of  life.  This  is  our  peculiar  trial.  In  other 
respects  we  are  more  happily  constituted,  and,  by  the  infinite 
blessings  of  education  and  situation,  are  saved  from  other  moral 
temptations,  and  virtue  is  made  easy.  But,  in  all  that,  there 
is  no  credit. — I  had  almost  said,  no  virtue;  because  no  effort. 
We  must  make  effort  for  something ;  and  this  is  that  some- 
thing;  here  lies  our  probation.  If  we  habitually  regard  it  in 
this  light,  we  shall  not  despair,  but  shall  go  on  cheerfully. 

"  The  great  point  is, — and  in  this  we  specially  have  to  strug- 
gle against  this  constitutional  evil, — to  maintain  a  strong, 
active,  and  fervent  spirit  of  devotion  ;  to  secure  the  constant 
and  paramount  action  of  the  religious  principle  and  religious 
motives.     I  fear,  that  it  is  here  we  especially  fail,  and  that  our 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  1S9 

carelessness  in  this  must  be  cured,  before  a  thorough  remedy 
can  pervade  our  characters.  I  judge  of  your  case  by  my  own. 
I  do  think  you  have  probably  erred  in  this  particular, — that 
carelessness,  I  mean,  of  which  you  speak, — more  than  I  did  ; 
I  have  been  more  favorably  situated.  But  I  have  perceived 
in  you,  for  a  long  time,  a  visible  and  growing  improvement ; 
and,  with  the  desire  you  manifest  to  go  on,  I  do  not  doubt, 
you  will  completely  conquer  at  last.  Do  not,  however,  rely 
on  the  sufficiency  of  any  but  the  highest  motives. 

"  This  is  a  long  sermon  ;  but  I  feel  as  if  I  were  preaching  to 
an  eager  listener,  who  will  not  throw  it  away.  I  hope  it  is  to 
the  purpose.  If  not,  tell  me ;  and  tell  me  in  what  point,  of 
any  sort,  I  can  say  a  word  to  help  you.  How  can  I  be  better 
or  more  interestingly  employed  ? 

"  The  management  of  Sunday  is  a  hard  problem.  Who 
knows  what  is  too  much  and  too  little  ?  Perhaps  the  children 
might  be  separated  part  of  the  day.  As  to  making  it  burden- 
some to  them,  it  would  never  do  ;  and  I  do  not  like  that  it 
should  be  the  most  laborious  in  the  week  to  you.  You  ought 
to  have  some  time  for  your  own  reading  and  improvement." 

In  June,  he  gives  an  account  of  the  ceremonies 
attendant  on  laying  the  corner-stone  of  the  Bunker-Hill 
Monument. 

to  the  same. 

"  June  16,  1825. 

"  Can  you  conceive  the  bustle  and  confusion  wre  are  in  ? 
Everybody  and  everything  is  crazy  with  preparation  for  to- 
morrow. The  streets  have  been  thronged,  for  two  days,  with 
people  on  foot  and  in  carriages,  going  to  Bunker-Hill.  To- 
day it  has  been  an  uninterrupted  procession,  a  clogging  crowd. 
The  hill  is  thick  and  black  with  visitors.  Charlestown  Bridge, 
at  times,  is  so  thronged  as  to  be  almost  impassable.  Strangers 
from  everywhere  fill  the  town.     Every  respectable  tavern  and 


190  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

boarding-house  has  been  more  than  full  for  two  nights ;  and 
last  night,  I  am  told,  some  were  compelled  to  pass  in  the 
streets.  Several  companies  of  soldiers  encamp  on  the  Common 
to-night.  Preparation  is  made,  in  a  splendid  tent,  to  dine 
about  five  thousand.  Tables  have  been  partially  laid  this 
three  days  ;  and  the  rain  last  night  soaked  the  table-cloths,  and 
filled  the  plates  and  dishes.  The  amphitheatre,  on  the  side  of 
Bunker-Hill,  is  calculated  to  seat  nearly  ten  thousand  people, 
two  thousand  seats  being  for  the  ladies.  The  preparations  are 
truly  magnificent,  and  the  public  excitement  is  great  beyond 
description.  I  will  write  you  to-morrow  an  account  of  what  is 
done,  as  I  dare  say  you  will  like  to  hear  from  me,  as  well  as 
from  the  papers. 

"  Saturday,  June  18.  The  great  day  is  over ;  and,  as  I  am 
sure  the  papers  will  not  tell  the  truth,  or,  at  least,  my  truth, 
about  it,  I  will  relate  my  experience.  The  day  itself  was  as 
perfectly  delightful  as  you  ever  have  in  June.  The  procession 
began  to  form  at  ten  o'clock ;  consisted  of  probably  from  eight 
to  ten  thousand  ;  reached  my  meeting-house  at  twenty  minutes 
past  eleven,  and  entered  Charlestown  Square  at  twenty  minutes 
past  twelve.  We  formed  a  large  square  around  the  site  of  the 
intended  monument,  and  all  was  perfectly  orderly  till  after  the 
corner-stone  was  laid,  of  which  ceremony  I  could  neither  see 
nor  hear  anything. 

"  After  that,  all  was  disorder.  Nobody  knew  what  was  to 
be  done, — even  the  marshals  had  not  been  informed,— and, 
therefore,  instead  of  forming  the  procession  again,  and  going 
quietly  to  the  seats,  the  crowd  made  a  tremendous  and 
tumultuous  rush  down  the  hill,  and  seized  all  the  best  ones,  at 
once.  Then  a  long  time  was  employed  in  clearing  them,  so 
as  to  give  rightful  persons  their  rightful  places.  But,  alas ! 
nobody  knew  where  his  rightful  place  was,  and  some  were 
driven  from  several  before  they  could  find  their  own,  and 
many  found  none  at  all.  In  a  word,  nothing  could  be  worse 
done  than  this  part  of  the  affair.      Before  half  of  the  procession 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE.    JR.  191 

had  come  down  and  were  seated,  old  Mr.  Thazter  began  his 
prayer ;  but  there  were  a  thousand  people  talking  as  loud  as 
he  ;  a  hymn  was  sung,  but  still  no  quiet.  Webster  rose ;  but 
now  the  rabble  from  behind  burst  through  the  guard,  and  came 
down  through  the  alleys,  and  choked  them  up. 

k*  I  left  my  seat  in  despair,  and  went  off.  T  walked  round 
the  outskirts,  and  tried  various  places ;  but  in  vain.  I  caught 
a  sentence  now  and  then ;  but  the  crowd  was  made  up  of  boys 
and  men,  who  cared  nothing  for  the  speech,  but  were  talking 
and  joking  and  walking  about.  So  that,  whereas  it  is  perfectly 
certain,  that  all  on  the  seats,  that  is,  more  than  ten  thousand, 
might  have  heard,  if  they  had  been  properly  and  quietly 
arranged,  it  turned  out  that  not  more  than  a  third  of  that  num- 
ber heard  anything.  Half  of  the  ministers  and  others,  who 
most  cared  to  hear,  were  excluded.  I  made  out  to  press  my 
way  at  last,  so  as  to  hear  the  orator's  conclusion,  of  fifteen 
minutes.     He  was  about  an  hour  or  more. 

"  The  same  disorder  reigned  at  dinner.  Nobody  knew 
where  he  was  to  go  ;  nothing  could  be  seen  or  heard  in  so  great 
a  crowd ;  and,  when  it  came  to  the  songs  and  toasts,  guess,  if 
you  can,  the  intolerable  hubbub.  I  soon  grew  tired  and  came 
away ;  got  home,  horribly  fatigued,  and  went  to  bed  with  a 
sick  headache.  No  doubt,  above  one  hundred  thousand  peo- 
ple were  out.  Among  other  matters  worth  mentioning,  there 
was  a  scarcity  of  water  at  dinner.  After  walking  and  sitting 
in  the  sun  and  dust  for  more  than  five  hours,  we  found  no 
pitchers  holding  more  than  a  pint ;  and  when  we  had  replen- 
ished them  twice,  lo  !  there  was  no  more  to  be  had.  So  that 
some  men  actually  could  not  eat  because  of  their  thirst." 

The  following  letters,  written  in  July,  refer  to  the 
death,  by  drowning  in  Charles  River,  of  a  brother, 
about  nine  years  old. 


192  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

"July,  1825. 
"  I  was  in  at  the  examination  of  the  Senior  Class.  Father  was 
called  out;  and  I  heard  the  distant  whisper,  which  informed 
me  of  some  catastrophe.  I  rushed  out,  also.  For  some  time 
we  could  not  find  who  sent  for  us,  nor  where  we  were  to  go ; 
but,  in  the  street,  one  and  another  told  us,  that  it  was  Mr. 
Ware's  child,  at  the  old  bath.  You  may  guess  with  what 
feelings  we  hurried  on  together,  not  knowing  whose  child,  and 
I,  of  course,  dreading  it  was  John.  Our  suspense  was  not 
relieved  till  we  had  been  on  the  bank  for  some  minutes.  I 
found  that  John  had  not  undressed.  Who  knows  what  a  day 
may  bring  forth;  and  who  can  preach  like  Providence?" 

"  July  17,  1825. 

11  The  funeral  was  on  Thursday, — very  private,  but  a  few 

persons, — all  in  violent  grief,  as  you  may  suppose.     C 's 

agony  was  particularly  touching.  Poor  Edward  was  so  timid, 
and  so  little  venturesome,  that  it  seems  the  more  affecting  that 
he  should  have  been  taken.  But  it  is  probable  that  he  suffer- 
ed nothing  after  the  first  fright.  As  he  never  lifted  his  head 
above  the  water,  there  is  no  doubt  he  died  at  once.  It  is  a 
great  satisfaction  to  believe,  that  the  horrid  feeling  of  such  ter- 
ror was  not  protracted.  It  was  precisely  twenty  years  that  day 
since  the  death  of  our  mother,  as,  perhaps,  you  observed.  Is 
it  not  remarkable,  that  six  of  us  have  grown  to  maturity,  as 
we  have  ?  And  do  you  not  sometimes  look  round  with  a  sort 
of  apprehension,  as  if  a  breach  must  soon  be  made,  and  as  if 
you  would  ask  where  ?  I  have  felt  so  these  six  years ;  but  I 
am  more  wedded  to  life  than  I  was  then." 


CHAPTER     XI. 

FAILURE  OF  HIS  HEALTH,  AND  A  JOURNEY  FOR  ITS  RESTORATION  — 
VISITS  THE  INTERIOR  OF  NEW  YORK  — HIS  ACCOUNT  OF  AN  EXTRA- 
ORDINARY RELIGIOUS  EXCITEMENT  THERE  — LETTERS— VISIT  TO 
NIAGARA — RETURNS    WITH    IMPROVED    HEALTH. 

1826.     JET.  32. 

It  is  not  possible  to  make  particular  mention  of  all 
the  multifarious  objects  which  had  engaged  his  atten- 
tion during  the  last  few  years  we  have  gone  over.  He 
had  been  constantly  occupied  in  very  active  duties  in 
his  parish,  both  as  a  preacher,  in  and  out  of  season, 
and  as  a  visiter :  as  a  preacher  on  various  other  occa- 
sions away  from  home;  as  a  writer  in  the  "Christian 
Examiner"  and  "  Christian  Register,*'  and  for  some  time 
as  a  conductor  of  one  or  the  other  of  them ;  in  fine,  as 
an  active  mover  in  all  public  enterprises  for  promoting 
benevolent  and  religious  purposes.  He  had  done  all 
this  with  so  little  regard  to  his  capability  of  physical 
endurance,  that,  in  the  beginning  of  1S26,  he  was  com- 
pletely exhausted,  and  his  health  so  much  impaired,  as 
seriously  to  alarm  his  friends.  But,  nevertheless,  as  was 
usually  the  case  with  him,  he  continued  hopeful  and 
cheerful.  In  May,  he  writes  thus  to  his  friends  in  New 
York : 

"  If  I  had  not  bound  myself  to  Boston,  by  positive  engage- 
ments, I  certainly  should   have  taken  you  by    surprise  this 
17 


194  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

week,  for  I  am  not  only  on  an  impatient  tiptoe,  but  I  have 
been  rather  troubled  with  pains  and  disturbances  in  my  chest; 
so  that,  after  plastering,  blistering,  and  dieting,  I  was  quite 
beat  out  on  Sunday,  and  longed  for  the  wings  of  a  dove  to  fly 
away.  But  I  am  bound  here  fast  till  the  first  of  June,  and 
then  I  shall  fly  away,  whether  I  have  wings  or  not.  Indeed, 
I  am  better;  notwithstanding  this  cruel  excess  of  heat,  I  am  a 
good  deal  better,  and  shall  soon  cease  to  ail.  I  have  a  multi- 
tude of  matters  and  plans  to  talk  over  with  you.  I  hope  your 
good  New  York  hospitality  will  allow  me  some  hours  of 
undisturbed  quiet  with  you.  One  plan  is  to  fetch  you  home 
with  me.  Another  is,  to  spend  one  week  in  going  up  the 
river,  and  to  the  western  part  of  the  State,  to  attend  the  annual 
Conference  of  the  Christians,  &c.     More  when  I  see  you. 

"  I  expect  to  bring  with  me,  to  New  York,  one  of  my  young 
men,  who  is  of  an  excellent  spirit,  and  who  will  please  you, 
Sampson, — of  not  great  education,  but  one  of  nature's  good 
men.  I  am  very  happy  in  a  little  knot  of  young  coadjutors  in 
my  parish. 

"  I  am  just  now  listening  to  a  delightful  band  playing  at  a 
distance  ;  the  music  stealing  through  the  still  midnight  air, 
windows  open,  a  perfect  calm,  and  a  beautiful  bright  moon, 
half  veiled  by  clouds,  in  mid-heaven.  It  comes  sweetly  along, 
1  like  the  memory  of  joys  that  are  past,  pleasant  and  mournful 
to  the  soul.'  It  is  just  midnight,  and  memory,  as  well  as 
imagination,  grows  busy." 

His  condition  was  far  from  being  so  favorable  as  he 
represents  it  in  this  letter;  but  he  engaged,  with  his 
usual  zeal  in  the  meetings  of  the  Anniversary  week, 
especially  in  that  of  the  American  Unitarian  Associa- 
tion, up  to  Wednesday,  but  left  the  city,  quite  exhaust- 
ed, on  that  day  for  Northborough.  whence  he  wrote  the 
next  morning  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Gannett. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  195 

"  June  1,  1S26. 
"  My  dear  Gannett, 

"  Every  mile  that  I  rode,  increased  my  regret  at  leaving  the 
doings  of  the  week,  and  confirmed  me  in  the  persuasion  that  I 
had  done  right  in  coming  away ;  and  I  am  sorry  for  nothing 
about  it  so  much,  as  that  I  have  left  upon  your  hands  an 
additional  burden  of  care.  I  hope  you  will  throw  it  off  upon 
some  one  else.  I  intended  to  see  Sewail,  but  my  engage- 
ments on  Tuesday  rendered  it  impossible.  I  think  that  he  will 
take  one  page,  at  least ;  the  first  or  second,  as  you  may  prefer, 
though  not  ready  to  take  the  whole.  I  suppose  some  arrange- 
ment with  him  will  take  place  at  once.  Pray  let  it  be  with  an 
express  stipulation,  that  the  paper  ^  shall  not  get  a  character 
of  perpetual  carping  and  fault-finding  with  '  the  Recorder,' 
and  other  Autodoxies.  We  are  always  in  danger  of  it,  and  it 
would  be  a  great  and  offensive  evil. 

"  If  I  had  brought  with  me  my  notes  of  the  speeches,  I  think 
I  could  have  done  something  with  them,  though  they  are  very 
slight.  I  fear  you  cannot  use  them,  or  any  one  else.  Salton- 
stall  will  send  a  sketch  of  his  remarks,  and  perhaps  Judge 
Story  and  the  others  would  do  the  same.  You  can  judge  if 
it  would  be  best  to  ask  them.  I  think,  decidedly,  that  as  full 
an  account  of  the  meeting,  as  possible,  is  desirable.  Every- 
thing was  admirable. 

"  Pray  keep  yourself  well  and  strong.  I  shall  rejoice  to 
hear,  that  you  are  fully  relieved  from  the  drudgery  of  the  pa- 
per, and  spared  to  other  duties.  Meanwhile,  my  strong-hearted 
coadjutor, 

"  Yours,  ever, 

"  H.  Ware,  Jr." 

He  preached  at  Springfield  on  Sunday,  and,  leaving 
there  on  Monday,  reached  New  York  in  manner  and 
form  as  follows : 

*"  The  Christian  Register,"  of  which  he  was  then  one  of  the  Editors. 


196  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

11  Mew  York,  June  7,  1S26. 
"  This  is  to  inform  you,  and  all  concerned,  that  I  had  a  hot 
ride  to  Springfield,  and  got  there  at  seven  o'clock ;  took  a  bowl 
of  milk  at  the  tavern,  and  a  cup  of  coffee  at  Peabody's  ;  having 
been  smothered  by  heat  all  day.  Left  Springfield  Monday 
morning,  at  five  o'clock ;  rode  ten  miles  to  breakfast ;  calami- 
tously cold, — thick  clothes,  and  great  coat, — yet  no  comfort. 
Reached  Hartford  at  half  past  ten ;  spent  till  eleven  in  seeing 
fishermen  draw  their  nets  and  take  nothing.  Started  for  New 
York;  fine  passage;  so  cold,  obliged  to  keep  below.  *  Any 
library  on  board?'  'No,  Sir.'  'Any  books?'  'No,  Sir.' 
A  pleasant  prospect,  truly.  Not  a  soul  that  I  ever  saw  before  ; 
so  I  sauntered  and  slept,  and  read  a  few  tracts,  and  a  good 
many  old  newspapers,  and  slept  again.  Turned  in  at  seven, 
P.  M.,  and  slept  well  till  we  landed  at  New  York,  at  five, 
Tuesday  morning,  and  at  six  went  to  William's.  Have  been 
dull  and  stupid ;  no  life  in  me.  I  think  of  going  to  Niagara, 
or  Lebanon  Springs ;  anywhere,  where  I  shan't  have  to  see 
any  one.  I  have  been  reading  Mrs.  Royall's  '  Travels,'  the 
most  entertaining  book  I  ever  saw  ;  full  of  information ;  a 
woman  of  very  keen  and  perspicacious  observation ;  saw 
seventy  steeples  in  Boston;  discovered  that  Ward  Nicholas 
Boylston  gave  to  College  its  whole  library ;  is  going  to  publish 
two  volumes  more  of  information  equally  accurate.  When 
you  get  into  the  dumps,  read  it." 

to  mr.  gannett. 

"  New  York,  June  12,  1826. 
"  One  of  the  few  things,  which  have  disturbed  me  since  I 
left  home,  has  been,  that  I  quitted  you  without  putting  a  laborer 
in  my  place  ;  and  I  fear  that  you  may  have  been  driven  to  in- 
convenience thereby.  I  long  to  hear  how  you  have  managed, 
and  what  arrangements  the  Executive  Committee  has  been 
able  to  make  with  Sewall.  I  hope  that  by  this  time  yon 
fairly  rid  of  the  drudgery. 


LIFE    OF    HKNKY    WARE,    JR.  197 

"  I  hope  you  will  give  my  people  a  word  when  you  can  ; 
and  if  sometimes  having  an  unengaged  half  day,  you  will 
bestow  it  on  them,  it  will  be  particularly  acceptable  to  them,  as 
well  as  oblige  me.  I  am  desirous  that  you  should  preach  to 
them  an  '  India '  sermon.  Mr.  Samson  means  to  go  about  the 
subscription,  and  the  matter  must  be  set  before  them  in  proper 
order,  and  with  power.  Will  you  let  him  know  yjhen  you  will 
do  this,  if  in  your  power  to  do  it  at  all  ? 

"  I  hoped  to  have  given  you  from  here  a  few  paragraphs  for 
the  paper ;  but  it  hurts  me  too  much  to  make  the  effort  to  write. 
If  I  become  able,  as  I  proceed,  you  may  depend  on  hearing. 
I  feel,  for  the  three  last  days,  better  symptoms.  I  start  on 
horse-back  for  Niagara  to-morrow  or  next  day,  and  trust  to 
grow  fat  and  stout  soon." 

In  New  York  he  was  delayed  by  various  causes  :  he 
remained  there  about  a  fortnight,  bought  a  horse,  and 
on  the  26th  of  June,  began  an  equestrian  journey  to 
Niagara.  The  best  account  of  this  expedition  will  be 
his  own.  contained  in  his  letters  to  various  friends.  Be- 
fore setting  out.  he  had  already  improved  somewhat  in 
strength,  but  still  continued  to  suffer  much  from  many 
of  his  ailments. 

"  Wednesday,  June  28,  10  a.  m. 
(written  with  pencil.) 
"  Dear  W.  and  M.     I  have  ridden  ever  since  five,  without 
finding  a  tavern  ;  so,  being  both  hungry  and  tired,  I  sit  on  a 
rock  beneath  an  umbrageous  shade,  ('sub  tegmine  fagi,) '  and 
improve  my  time  by  writing.     I  had  a  fine  ride  the  day  I  left 
you.     I  suspect  you  had  a  shower,  but  it  did  not  touch  me.     I 
arrived  at  Kingsbridge,  thirteen  miles,  about  eight ;  got  to  the 
edge  of  Greenburg  next  morning,  seven  miles,  to  breakfast, — 
a  fine,  old,  clean  house,  kept  by  fine,  old,  clean  people,  Van 
Wyck.     I  was  quite  delighted,  though  the  same  room  served 
17 


198  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

for  parlor,  bar-room,  and  bed-room  ;  excellent  milk,  delicious 
bread  and  butt?r.  By  eleven,  I  got  to  Tarry  town,  seven 
miles  ;  and,  being  very  tired,  stayed  till  to-day.  I  might  have 
breakfasted  at  Sing  Sing ;  but,  as  I  past  there  a  little  after  six, 
I  preferred  to  go  on.  I  am  now  in  the  Highlands ;  but  the 
Highlands  have  no  taverns,  and  I  hear  and  see  nobody.  This 
morning's  ride  has  been  most  beautiful.  The  river  is  in  view 
for  miles,  crowded  with  vessels,  and  many  romantic  spots  on 
shore.  I  enjoy  myself  and  my  horse,  who  does  well.  Riding 
cheers  me.  I  feel  no  better  than  when  in  New  York  ;  but,  as 
I  was  dull  there,  being  cheered  is  something.  If  I  ever  get 
to  a  tavern,  I  will  write  some  more. 

"  Said  tavern  I  found  at  half  past  ten ;  one  room  on  a  floor ; 
folks  washing;  no  hay,  but  exceeding  good  bread.  Shall 
have  to  decamp  soon.  On  my  way,  met  two  little  Highland 
lasses,  of  whom  I  bought  six  cents'  worth  of  raspberries.  On 
asking,  '  How  far  to  a  tavern  ?'  they  said,  ■  they  had  n't  seen 
none  go  by  to-day.'  I  had  other  conversations,  equally  pleas- 
ant and  peculiar.  For  some  miles  I  have  lost  sight  of  the 
river,  and  the  road  is  very  little  frequented,  and  human  habi- 
tations are  scarce.  About  a  mile  from  this  little  inn  I  fell  in 
with  Peekskill,  passed  through,  and  at  four,  p.  M.,  am  at  the 
Phcenix  Hotel !  no  other  house  within  miles.  Said  Hotel  one 
story  high,  not  old  and  neat.  Here  I  shall  bivouac,  fearing  I 
may  go  farther  and  fare  worse.  Thirty  miles  to-day,  and  not 
a  little  tired." 

"  Redhook,  Hermann's  Inn, 

"  Friday,  June  30,  half  past  six,  p.  m. 
"  Dear  W.  &  M.  My  mind  misgives  me  that  you  did  not 
get  the  letter  which  I  sent  from  the  Pheonix  hotel.  I  left  it 
for  the  stage-driver  to  put  into  the  office  at  Peekskill,  in  order 
that  you  might  surely  have  it  by  last  night ;  but,  as  I  forgot 
to  leave  a  douceur,  I  take  it  for  granted  he  forgot  it.  I  there- 
fore hurry  to  write  again,  to  tell  you  I  get  on  bravely.     This 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  199 

makes  a  hundred  and  seven  miles,  as  near  as  I  can  find,  for 
no  two  persons  agree  touching  any  distances.  I  came  from 
Pokepsy  to-day,  either  twenty-six  or  thirty  miles,  nobody 
knows  which.  Rhinebeck  is  very  pleasant.  Poughkeepsie  is 
very  disagreeable.  Redhook  pleasant.  This  tavern  is  low, 
small,  but  tolerably  comfortable  ;  and,  what  is  '  a  sight  for  sair 
e'en,'  possesses  a  handsome  landlady,  of  genuine  New  Eng- 
land stamp,  the  first  specimen  I  have  met  with  ;  for,  in  truth, 
the  greater  part  of  the  taverns  are  misery  of  the  first  water. 
Horse  does  exceedingly  well.  I  reach  Catskill  to-morrow,  and 
shall  probably  spend  Sunday  and  part  of  Monday  there.  But 
where  shall  I  keep  '  Independence '  ?  I  must  make  an  oration 
to  the  woods. ^  Doubtless  they  will  murmur  applause.  I 
wish  I  had  been  weighed  at  New  York ;  I  have  been  very 
thin,  but  prognosticate  a  good  fattening.  If  it  were  not  for 
occasional  soreness  and  pain,  I  should  think  I  was  fit  to  go 
home  now." 

"  Canal  Boat,  Connecticut,  July  5,  p.  m. 
"  I  remain  just  about  so,  except  that  for  two  days  I  have 
again  had  a  little  more  uneasiness  in  my  chest ;  no  great,  how- 
ever. I  took  a  boat  on  reaching  the  canol  this  morning,  and 
shall  arrive  at  Utica  to-morrow  noon.  My  last  week's  tour 
has  been  quite  pleasant.  I  have  seen  the  glorious  Catskill, 
and  written  myself  an  ass  in  the  album.  I  then  crossed  a  very 
beautiful  country,  though  rather  by  cross-roads,  and  got  to  the 
canal  at  six  this  morning.  Thus  far  we  have  followed  the 
banks  of  the  Mohawk,  which  are  pleasant  and  sometimes  beau- 
tiful. The  number  of  boats  astonishes  me ;  we  certainly  pass 
one  at  least  every  ten  minutes.     It  is  dull  work  on  the  whole. 

*  This  allusion  is  explained  by  the  circumstance,  that  he  had  been  selected 
by  the  city  authorities  of  Boston  to  deliver  an  oration  before  them,  on  the 
semi-centennial  celebration  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  The  state  of 
his  health  had  made  it  necessary,  after  having  once  made  an  engagement  to 
accept  the  aupointment,  to  ask  to  be  relieved  from  fulfilling  it. 


200  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

No  beauty  of  country  can  keep  away  ennui,  in  this  indolent 
way  of  moving  without  motion,  a  whole  day,  at  three  miles  an 
hour." 

The  interior  of  New  York  was  at  this  time  the  seat 
of  an  extraordinary  religious  excitement;  and,  on  arri- 
ving at  Utica,  July  6th.  and  proceeding  thence  to  Tren- 
ton, he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  it.  In  a  letter  to 
Mr.  Gannett,  he  gives  some  account  of  the  state  of  feel- 
ing, especially  with  regard  to  the  Unitarian  Society  at 
Trenton.  This  letter  states  things  as  they  were  seen 
and  heard,  under  the  immediate  influence  of  the  strong 
passions  and  prejudices  of  the  period.  That  they  were 
much  colored  and  distorted,  by  the  medium  through 
which  they  reached  my  brother's  mind,  no  one,  looking 
back  at  this  distance  of  time,  will  probably  doubt. 
Some  of  the  statements,  particularly  that  which  ascribes 
to  Mr.  Finney  the  assuming  of  a  blasphemous  title, 
were  called  in  question  at  the  time,  and  shown  to  be 
unsupported  by  any  sufficient  evidence.  The  general 
picture  was  found  to  be  true ;  there  was  little  exaggera- 
tion in  the  general  impression  given  of  the  feverish  and 
almost  delirious  state  of  the  public  mind;  but  some  of 
the  details  had  become  magnified. 

The  expediency  of  bringing  up,  at  this  distant  day, 
accounts  like  these,  of  so  painful  a  character,  may  be 
thought  doubtful.  The  religious  body,  concerned  in 
movements  of  this  kind,  may  regard  themselves  as  mis- 
represented by  them ;  to  a  certain  extent  they  probably 
are  so.  But  such  events  are  a  part  of  the  history  of 
the  time :  the  misconceptions  and  misrepresentations  of 
one  party  by  another,  are  a  part,  also,  of  this  history; 
and  the  history  of  the  times  is  the  only  true  back-ground 
of  the  picture  of  the  individual.     There  is  another  rea- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  201 

son  for  perpetuating  these  narratives,  inserted  as  they 
are  intended  to  be,  not  as  certainly  true  in  all  their 
points,  but  as  believed  to  be  true  at  the  time.  The 
party  referred  to  may  feel  that  they  are  unfairly  repre- 
sented, and  that  false  views  are  given  of  their  motives, 
character,  and  intentions.  Now,  those  impressions 
were  made  upon  the  mind  of  a  man  unusually  kind  in 
his  feelings  towards  his  opponents,  disposed  to  a  chari- 
table construction,  not  inclined  to  a  harsh  estimate  of 
other  sects ;  yet  they  feel  them  to  be  erroneous.  If  they 
are  so,  should  not  the  fact  be  a  lesson  to  both  of  the 
parties?  If,  on  the  one  hand,  the  extravagances  of  a 
few  fanatical  individuals,  and  the  excesses  of  an  excited 
community,  at  a  particular  time,  are  painted  in  some- 
what too  high  colors,  and  regarded  too  much  as  the 
legitimate  results  of  the  opinions  and  policy  of  a  par- 
ticular sect, — may  it  not  happen,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  the  apathy  of  the  opposing  party,  their  disapproval 
of  the  whole  class  of  means  of  which  these  are  a  part, 
the  cold  regard  in  which  they  hold  the  whole  matter  of 
revivals,  may  be  also  exaggerated,  and  their  motives  be 
misconceived,  and  not  be  so  attributable  to  religious 
indifference  as  has  been  supposed  ? 

TO    MR.    GANNETT. 

"  Utica,  July  9,  1S26. 
"  The  great  excitement  which  has  existed  for  some  time  in 
this  town  and  neighborhood,  you  have  probably  heard  of.  It 
has  been  attended  with  occurrences  of  outrageous  and  vulgar 
fanaticism,  such  as,  I  hope  and  believe,  have  never  been  par- 
alleled ;  and,  in  its  whole  tone,  has  had  a  tendency  to  render 
religion  disgusting  to  sober  observers.  To  frighten  by  any 
means,  the  most  unwarrantable,  has  been  the  great  effort ;  and 


202  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

the  indecorums,  the  breaches  of  good  manners,  the  profanity 
and  blasphemy,  which  have  been  com  milted,  are  almost  incred- 
ible. The  great  leader  is  either  a  crazy  man  or  an  impostor. 
He  calls  himself  '  the  brigadier-general  of  Jesus  Christ ;'  which 
is  a  characteristic  specimen  of  his  manner.  In  his  manner  he 
is  copied  by  all  the  subalterns,  most  of  whom  are  the  young 
men  from  Auburn  ;  who  are  let  loose,  during  vacation,  on  the 
neighboring  country,  being  boarded,  it  is  said,  at  the  expense 
of  the  institution  ;  and  who  go  round  in  bands,  assailing  pas- 
sengers in  the  street,  and  prying  into  families,  and,  in  the  most 
impudent  way,  catechizing  and  threatening.  The  prayer  for 
Colonel  Mappa  you  have  seen,  I  dare  say ;  it  ought  to  be  pub- 
lished in  the  £  Register';  ought  it  not?  It  is  a  specimen  of 
the  style  in  which  things  are  done. 

"  Let  me  give  you  a  few  other  specimens.  It  is  common 
for  these  young  men  to  ask  a  passenger  on  the  road,  '  Where 
are  you  going  ? '  He  answers  ;  and  they  say,  '  No,  you  are 
not.'  'No!  what  do  you  mean?'  'Why,  I  say,  you  are 
going  to  hell  ! '  This  has  become  a  by-word  among  the  chil- 
dren, a  lesson  of  profaneness  to  them,  who  are  heard  rehears- 
ing the  question  and  answer  perpetually.  Some  one  asked 
the  great  preacher  (Finney)  to  lend  him  his  horse.  '  I  have 
not  any  horse,'  said  he.  '  No  horse  ?  Is  not  that  your  horse 
in  the  stable?'  'No,  that's  Jesus  Christ's  horse;  if  you  are 
going  on  an  errand  for  him,  you  can  have  him.'  One  of  the 
preachers  gave  out  that  he  could  get  his  horse  removed  to  any 
place  he  pleased,  by  prayer :  could  pray  him  out  of  one  pas- 
ture into  another.  When  displeased,  the  common  phrase  is, 
'  I  will  go  and  tell  God  of  you,'  &c.  &c.  You  would  hardly 
credit  some  of  the  stories.  It  is  proposed  to  write  a  history  of 
the  thing  and  publish  it.  Finney  has  at  last  been  obliged  to 
leave  Utica,  where  he  was  for  a  long  time ;  for  the  better  part 
of  the  people  became  so  disgusted,  that  they  began  to  stir 
themselves,  and  then,  perhaps,  a  Unitarian  Society  might 
have  been  collected  ;  but  things  are  hardly  ripe  yet. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.  JR.  203 

"  In  this  spirit  and  form  a  violent  assault  was  made  upon 
Trenton,  and  it  was  given  out  that  the  society  should  be 
crushed.  '  Only  pray,  only  keep  praying,  and  we  shall  soon 
root  them  out,' said  the  brigadier-general.  And  they  did  pray, 
abusively,  about  persons,  against  persons,  at  all  times,  and  in 
all  places.  Their  emissaries  were  prowling  about,  sometimes 
eight,  and  even  more,  at  a  time.  They  left  not  a  stone  un- 
turned. But,  by  the  powrer  of  the  truth  and  the  blessing  of 
God,  the  Society  is  firmer,  more  earnest,  and  more  prosperous. 
It  has  gained  accessions  in  number  and  in  zeal.  The  minister 
has  worked  hard,  perse veringly  and  successfully.  Under  such 
circumstances  I  could  not  resist  the  request  to  preach  ;  and,  as 
I  am  so  much  improved  in  strength,  shall  probably  do  it  again. 
If  a  people  ever  deserved  countenance,  it  is  this  people.  For 
twenty  years  they  have  held  up  the  banner  through  the  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day,  amid  many  discouragements  and  neglects  ; 
yet  have  they  persevered  with  a  spirit  which  does  them  great 
credit.  They  are  much  more  numerous  than  I  supposed. 
They  are  most  intelligent,  respectable  and  devoted,  and,  with 
their  minister,  should  be  held  in  constant  remembrance  by 
their  more  favored  brethren." 

to  the  rev.  isaac  b.  peirce  of  trenton,  n.  y. 

"  Alexander,  Sunday  Morning,  July  23,  1826. 
"  I  passed  Wednesday  night  at  Auburn.  I  intended  to 
visit  the  Seminary  in  the  evening,  for  the  purpose  of  acquaint- 
ing myself  with  its  state,  discipline,  course  of  instruction,  &c. 
But  all  the  young  men  were  at  a  prayer-meeting,  and  I  went 
there  too ;  and  there  arose  to  speak  a  man  whom  I  soon  set- 
tled in  my  thought  to  be  the  notorious  Finney.  He  gave  direc- 
tions for  the  manner  of  praying,  not  so  as  to  be  accepted,  but 
so  as  to  produce  most  effect  on  the  sinners  present.  Their 
prayers,  he  said,  should  be  short,  and  they  should  particularly 
avoid  all  rehearsal  of  the  divine  attributes,  in  the  introduction, 
as  this  tended  greatly  to   let   down   the  tone  of  feeling.     A 


204  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR. 

strange  assertion !  Some  of  his  directions  were  exceedingly 
good.  These  young  men  prayed ;  their  only  object  was  to 
frighten.  I  do  not  believe  they  thought  of  anything  else. 
And  such  unscriptural  prayers  I  never  heard.  Violent,  loud, 
full  of  gesture,  full  of  denunciation,  one  half  occupied  in 
threatening  sinners  with  hell,  and  the  other  half  with  hurling 
anathemas  at  those  elders  and  other  professors  who  do  not  join 
this  work  of  revival. 

"  I  have  a  poor  memory  for  individual  expressions,  or  I 
could  repeat  to  you  some  most  shocking  language.  One  or 
two  instances  I  remember ; — '  Thou  knowest,  Lord,  that  we 
would  not  thus  plead  with  thee,  if  thy  glory  were  not  at  stake ; 
but  thy  glory  is  at  stake ;  thou  knowest,  O  God,  that  thy  glory 
is  at  stake.'  Sometimes  they  were  strangely  familiar,  both  in 
words  and  in  tone  of  voice.  '  Why,  Lord,  thou  hast  but  just 
come  here;  don't  go  away  again  yet.'  But,  on  the  whole,  it 
is  not  profitable  to  repeat  such  things.  He  made  a  long  speech 
afterwards  in  the  same  strain  ;  and  I  can  now  believe  any 
stories  I  have  heard  of  him.  He  has  talents,  unquestionable 
talents,  but  no  heart.  He  feels  no  more  than  a  mill-stone. 
There  is  proof,  which  no  one  who  sees  him  can  resist,  that  he 
is  acting  a  cold,  calculating  part.  This  is  a  harsh  charge,  but 
I  cannot  avoid  it.  His  tones  of  voice,  his  violent,  coarse, 
unfeeling  utterance,  his  affected  groanings,  his  writhing  of 
his  body  as  if  in  agony,  all  testify  that  he  is  a  hypocrite,  and 
yet  I  try  not  to  be  uncharitable. 

"  Mr.  Lansing,  minister  of  Auburn,  spoke  and  prayed  in 
the  same  fashion,  but  with  far  more  propriety  of  speech. 
But,  in  the  whole  evening,  there  was  not  one  word,  or  look, 
or  accent  of  tenderness,  or  one  that  indicated  the  slightest 
compassion  for  those  poor  wretches  whom  they  were  striving 
to  deliver  from  damnation.  This  amazed  me.  If  men  are 
sincere,  how  can  they  help  feeling  and  expressing  pity  above 
all  things  ?  What  can  we  think  of  those  who  riot  in  damna- 
tion and  torments,  and  seem  to  take  delight  in  wrath  and  ven- 


LIFE    OF    HKXRY    WAR!!.    It.  205 

geance  ?  I  inferred  from  their  language,  that  there  is  a  strong 
opposition  to  their  doings  among  the  religious  people  of  Au- 
burn." 

to  his  brother  john. 

"  July  10. 

"  I  am  now  in  Rome ;  not  the  Eternal  City,  mistress  of  the 
world,  which,  if  you  recollect,  was  situated  in  Italy;  but  Rome 
in  that  great  State,  which  appropriates  to  itself  great  names, 
if  not  great  things;  and,  but  for  a  quarrel,  it  might  have  been, 
instead  of  Utica,  the  great  city  of  the  West.  The  authorities 
of  the  place  thought  the  canal  must  go  through  the  town,  and 
therefore  they  stood  out  for  exorbitant  prices;  and  the  State, 
rather  than  pay  them,  carried  the  canal  through  a  hideous 
swamp,  which  everybody  thought  impassable.  Now  the  Ro- 
mans mourn,  and  all  their  great  prospects  are  transferred  to 
Utica.     A  pretty  picture  of  wars. 

"  Your  letter  I  got  yesterday,  and  was  rejoiced  to  see  it. 
The  parish  have  done  a  kind,  and  handsome  thing,  and  I  am 
very  grateful  to  them.  [Referring  to  a  vote  to  supply  the 
pulpit  during  his  absence  without  expense  to  him.]  I  continue 
to  improve,  as  you  may  suppose.  This  horseback  and  change 
are  wonderful.  I  am  not  all  the  time  free  from  pains  and 
some  other  troubles,  but  I  make  out  to  feel  that  I  am  gaining. 
I  have  hardly  ridden  more  than  twenty-three  miles  any  day. 
I  get  excessively  fatigued,  and  am  obliged  to  lie  down  three  or 
four  hours  at  mid-day. 

"  Utica  is  beautifully  situated,  and  beautifully  built,  and 
gives  uncommon  pleasure  to  the  eye  of  a  visitor.  The  pass- 
ing of  the  canal  through  the  centre  is  a  circumstance  that 
imparts  a  romantic  charm,  especially  in  the  evening,  when  the 
multitude  of  boats,  with  their  lights  reflected  from  the  water, 
gliding  among  the  houses,  the  bridges  thronged  with  persons 
looking  on,  the  streets  all  alive  with  passengers,  and  the  boat- 
18 


206  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

bugles  filling  the  air  with  music,  constitute  a  sort  of  enchant- 
ment to  one  who  is  there  for  the  first  time.  The  weather  for 
three  days  has  been  almost  insupportably  hot;  I  should  think 
98°.  I  could  not  ride  yesterday  after  nine  in  the  morning, 
and  think  I  shall  be  unable  to  ride  to-day." 

He  had  been  earnestly  advised  on  this  journey  to 
avoid  all  professional  exertions,  and,  fully  intending  it, 
had  gone  wholly  unprepared,  dressed  in  a  light-gray 
thin  frock  and  pantaloons,  altogether  in  as  unclerical  a 
garb  as  could  well  be  imagined.  He  felt,  however,  that 
the  call  at  Trenton  was  so  strong,  as  to  justify  the  ex- 
periment of  preaching  under  almost  any  circumstances. 

to  his  sister  harriet. 

11  Trenton,  Sunday  Evening,  July  16. 

"  I  left  all  my  sermons  at  New  York,  and  took  not  a  black 
rag  of  clothing  with  me,  in  order  that  I  might  not  preach  ; 
and  yet  here  have  I  stayed  nine  days  on  purpose  to  preach,  in 
borrowed  clothes  too  !  a  bottle-green  coat ! !  Well, — there  's 
something  new  under  the  sun.  I  found  the  Society  here  just 
so  situated,  that  I  must  have  been  less  than  a  man  to  have 
refused  to  preach;  and,  finding  that  I  did  good,  and  excited 
attention,  and  strengthened  weakness,  I  could  not  help  staying 
a  second  Sunday.  And  I  am  so  happy  as  to  have  got  through 
perfectly  without  harm,  I  believe.  I  preached  extemporane- 
ously;— people  from  all  the  neighboring  towns.  There  never 
were  so  many  here  together  before,  and  the  impulse  given  by 
a  stranger  from  Boston  is  a  great  good  to  them.  I  have  found 
excellent  people  here,  and  have  highly  enjoyed  myself.  I  am 
greatly  better  than  I  was,  and,  having  had  this  delay,  conclude 
not  to  go  to  Quebec,  but  return  directly  from  Niagara. 

"  My  stay  at  Trenton  has  enabled  me  to  learn  something  of 
the   state  of  the  country.     It  is  full  of  Unitarians.     Every 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.  JR.  207 

village  has  them,  and  the  time  is  coming,  when  societies  will 
exist  all  around  here.  Trenton  Falls  are  the  most  beautiful 
and  splendid  object  of  the  kind  which  I  have  seen.  Imagine  a 
succession  of  hills,  one  above  the  other,  of  solid  rock.  Imagine 
an  earthquake  to  cause  a  deep  rent  of  two  hundred  feet  in 
their  centre,  laying  open  a  vast  chasm,  rocky  and  precipitous, 
its  sides  perpendicular,  for  two  miles  in  extent.  Then  sup- 
pose a  stream  of  water  to  rush  through  this  chasm,  a  perpetual 
descent  over  rocks  the  whole  distance,  and  sometimes  leaping 
down  ledges  of  ten,  twenty,  and. thirty  feet,  so  shattered  as  to 
be  perfectly  white,  and  the  rocks  so  disposed  as  sometimes  to 
throw  one  sheet  directly  against  another.  If  you  understand 
me,  you  have  Trenton  Falls.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  variety 
of  the  scenery.  The  sides  are  all  covered  with  green  woods, 
and  sometimes,  in  a  narrow  pass,  where  each  side  overhangs, 
there  is  a  perfect  smoothness  of  the  waters,  which  are  rendered 
by  the  situation  black  as  ink.  All  travellers  visit  them  now, 
— thousands ;  yet,  four  years  ago,  they  were  not  known 
beyond  the  village.  Mr.  Sherman,  formerly  minister,  once 
expelled  from  Connecticut  for  heresy,  first  made  them  known, 
and  keeps  a  house  for  the  entertainment  of  visitors, — the  best 
house  I  have  seen.  He  is  a  genius  and  a  scholar.  He  has 
just  written  a  new  system  of  English  Grammar,  wholly  origi- 
nal and  highly  ingenious." 

to  the  same. 

"  Bloomfield,  July  21. 
"  Remember,  that  in  your  person,  or  (to  speak  more  exactly) 
in  your  appellation,  are  comprised  all  the  folk  at  Northbo- 
rough  ;  and  therefore  this  and  other  epistles  are  to  them  alike. 
With  this  proviso  to  quiet  your  and  their  jealousy,  I  proceed 
to  say,  that  during  this  shower,  I  sit  in  the  wide  entry  of  this 
inn,  master  and  mistress  gone  away,  four  children  playing, 
and  one  crying,  with  a  chequer-board  in  my  lap  and  the  ink- 


208  LIFE    OF    HLNRY    WARE,    JR. 

stand  on  the  chair,  and  send  home  my  affectionate  thoughts  to 
friends  and  children,  even  as  the  sweet  swan  of  Mantua  saith  : 

'  Dulces  repastus  reminiscitur  Argos  :' 

In  which  line,  by  the  way,  I  fancy  there  is  a  false  quantity. 
But  there  is  truth  enough  to  make  up  for  it ;  for,  being  inter- 
preted, it  signifies,  '  Having  dined  on  sour  milk,  he  bethinks 
himself  of  his  siceet  friends.'  I  have  not  Dryden  by  me,  or  I 
would  give  you  a  more  poetic  version.  At  any  rate,  however, 
I  hope  it  won't  rain  all  the  afternoon,  for  I  had  calculated  it 
should  read  thus  :  '  After  dinner  he  thought  of  going  to  see 
Elder  Millard,'  who  lives  only  five  miles  off.  But,  instead  of 
talking  with  him,  I  '11  while  away  an  hour  at  Northborough. 
It 's  so  seldom  that  I  feel  any  willingness  to  write,  that  it 's 
well  to  work  while  the  fit  is  on  me,  or  (seeing  it  rains)  to  make 
hay  while  the  sun  shines. 

"  I  rode  from  Trenton,  fourteen  miles  only,  on  Monday,  and 
stayed  at  Whitesborough.  Tuesday,  I  rode  thirty-six  miles, 
through  Vernon,  Oneida  (the  Indian  village).  Lenox,  Sullivan, 
a  small  manufacturing  town  in  a  glen,  to  Manlius,  an  ugly, 
awkward  village  on  a  steep  hill-side.  "Wednesday,  thirty- 
three  miles,  through  Orville,  to  Syracuse,  a  pretty  large  town, 
bran-new,  right  amongst  the  stumps  of  trees,  which  make  a 
strange  contrast  with  the  fine  houses,  streets,  and  churches. 
The  canal  passes  directly  through,  and  makes  a  good  deal  of 
business.  One  mile  distant  is  Salina,  where  is  an  immense 
salt  spring,  yielding  one  hundred  and  ninety  thousand  gallons 
an  hour.  It  is  pumped  up  by  machinery,  which  is  worked  by 
water  from  the  canal,  and  which  distributes  it  to  a  multitude 
of  salt-works  that  cover  the  face  of  the  land.  Salt  is  the  sta- 
ple article  of  Salina  and  Syracuse.  Then  I  came  to  Camillus, 
Elbridge,  and  Auburn,  sweet  jumble  of  names.  Auburn  dis- 
appointed me.  It  is  large,  pretending,  huddled,  but  not  neat 
or  beautiful.  It  stands  on  the  top  principally  of  one  hill,  and 
in  the  valley  and  on  the  side  of  another.     Here  I  attended  a 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  209 

prayer-meeting,  whose  horrors  and  blasphemy  have  not  done 
ringing  in  my  ears  yet.  Here  is  the  State  Prison  and  the 
Theological  Seminary ;  or,  as  it  has  been  appropriately  styled, 
the  prison  of  the  mind. 

"  Thursday,  thirty-three  miles,  to  Cayuga,  on  the  Lake  of 
that  name,  which  I  crossed  on  a  shabby  bridge  for  twenty-five 
cents.  The  lake  is  very  tame  and  unpicturesque,  as  are  all 
the  other  lakes  in  this  neighborhood,  though  pretty  large. 
Then  to  Seneca  Falls,  and  Waterloo,  a  pleasant  village  on  the 
Seneca  River,  and  Geneva,  a  large  and  beautiful  town  on  the 
Seneca  Lake.  It  is  laid  out  principally  in  two  fine,  wide 
streets,  overlooking  the  lake,  one  below  the  hill,  and  the  other 
at  its  top;  very  compact  and  city-like,  and  with  good  taste  and 
good  effect.  I  put  up  for  the  night  eight  miles  this  side,  and 
passed  the  night  in  company  with  a  large  party  of  bed-bugs, 
who  feasted  riotously,  and  disturbed  my  repose.  There  are  a 
2;reat  many  of  this  dissipated  class  in  this  part  of  the  world. 
To-day  I  reached  Canandaigua  at  nine  o'clock.  The  country 
here  is  very  beautiful  and  fertile,  and  laid  out  in  rich,  well- 
cultivated  farms.  It  looks  older  than  any  I  have  seen.  Can- 
andaigua lies  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  on  a  beautiful  slope, 
built  with  great  elegance  and  taste ;  trees,  gardens,  and  front- 
yards  much  after  the  style  of  Worcester,  Springfield,  and 
Northampton,  though  naturally  a  finer  site.  It  is  by  far  the 
handsomest  town  I  have  seen.  Bloomfield  is  a  pleasantly 
situated  town,  standing  on  a  hill  much  after  the  fashion  of 
Lancaster.  It  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  rich  agricultural 
town.  The  whole  land  is  more  fully  peopled  than  I  supposed; 
inhabitants  are  found  everywhere  on  the  road ;  no  desert 
tracts ;  villages  frequent  and  pleasant. 

"  All  the  papers  are  full  of  the  death  of  Adams  and  Jeffer- 
son, as  well  they  may  be.  Was  ever  anything  so  wonderful  ? 
I  preached  on  the  occasion  at  Trenton.  I  drew  from  their 
history,  first,  an  encouragement  to  our  country  ;  secondly,  an 
encouragement  for  Unitarianism." 
IS* 


210  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR. 

to  the  same. 

"  Alexander,  July  23. 
"  In  this  eminent  village  (of  thirteen  houses)  I  have  passed 
a  quiet  Sunday.  I  arrived  here  at  half-past  six  this  morning, 
having  ridden  from  Batavia,  eight  miles,  and  being  unwilling 
to  ride  further  because  of  the  Sabbath.  But  light  clothes 
won't  disguise  a  parson.  He  can  be  seen  through  them  as 
easily  as  if  they  were  only  a  robe  of  light.  You  remember 
Virgil  sweetly  singeth, 

'  Nimiuro  ne  crede  colori ;' 

a  most  poetical  verse,  the  sense  and  beauty  of  which  I  now 
for  the  first  time  fully  comprehend.  It  means,  literally  rendered, 
(Dryden's  version  is  more  paraphrastic,)  The  priest  is  a  ninny 
(the  right  reading  being  unquestionably  ninnium)  who  trusts 
to  the  color  of  his  clothes  to  keep  him  incog.  And  the  poet 
goes  on  to  say  somewhat  about  blackberries,  which  I  need  not 
quote ;  but  it  amounts,  if  I  remember,  to  this :  '  You  might  as 
well  make  a  blackberry  pass  for  a  currant  by  taking  off  its 
black  coat,  as  turn  a  minister  into  a  gentleman  by  the  same 
process.'  Now,  I  have  been  smelt  out  almost  everywhere  ; 
people  look  at  me  and  stop  swearing ; 

'  And,  strut  and  swagger  as  I  will. 
I  'm  nothing  but  a  parson  still.' 

"  When  I  was  going  quietly  to  meeting  this  afternoon,  the 
minister  accosted  me  in  the  street,  and  asked  me  to  help  him. 
I  declined,  saying,  '  I  am  a  Unitarian.'  But  the  Presbyterian 
still  wished  it,  and  so  I  went  and  sat  by  him,  or,  as  '  honest 
Will'  more  expressively  phraseth  it, 

*  Accoutred  as  I  was,  I  plunged  in  ;' 

and,  when  he  had  done  his  sermon,  I  rose  and  exhorted  on 
the  same  subject  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  The  people  were 
very  attentive,  some  of  them  shed  tears,  and  none  of  them 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  211 

slept.  Well,  when  1  got  back  to  the  tavern,  I  learned  from 
the  landlady,  who  has  held  a  long  talk  with  me,  that  her  hus- 
band and  another  gentleman  said  they  knew  I  was  a  minister 
when  I  first  arrived;  but  she  had  told  them  that  she  did  n't 
believe  it.  So  once  more,  as  Virgil  says,  '  Never  trust  to  a 
white  coat  to  rub  the  black  off  a  minister's  back.'  The  minis- 
ter invited  me  to  go  with  him  to  attend  another  meeting  four 
miles  off.  But  I  excused  myself.  Well,  you  say,  what  will 
happen  next  ?  Two  Sundays  in  a  bottle-green  coat,  and  a 
third  in  a  light- gray  ! 

"  After  writing  to  you  on  Friday,  I  passed  the  evening  with 
Dr.  Millard,  author  of '  The  True  Messiah  Exalted,' whom  I 
found  a  sensible,  interesting  man,  about  thirty-three  years  of 
age.  He  received  me  with  a  most  hearty  welcome,  seeming 
delighted  to  behold  me,  and  tried  to  persuade  me  to  spend 
Sunday  and  preach.  I  longed  to  do  it,  but  had  resolved  to 
deny  myself,  and  so  I  peremptorily  denied  him.  I  believe  I 
was  right ;  but,  indeed,  I  regretted  it,  for  I  shall  never  be  there 
again,  and  it  would  have  been  an  opportunity  to  rivet  one  of 
the  links  of  the  great  Unitarian  chain  of  connexion,  and  a  very 
important  one  too.  If  I  should  be  unable  to  go  home  by  the 
canal,  (my  present  plan,)  and  should  be  obliged  to  ride,  it  is 
not  impossible  that  I  may  give  him  a  Sunday  on  my  return. 

11  Wednesday,  P.  M.  Here  am  I  at  Niagara  Falls  and  in 
Canada.  I  arrived  yesterday  afternoon  at  four  o'clock.  At 
four  miles'  distance  I  first  saw  the  cloud  of  vapor,  which  rises 
from  them,  and  which  may  be  seen  twenty  miles  off.  There 
also  I  first  heard  them,  but  their  thunder  is  by  no  means  so 
loud  as  I  expected.  I  do  not  hear  them  in  my  room  with  door 
and  windowT  shut,  though  I  am  only  a  quarter  of  a  mile  dis- 
tant. I  have,  yesterday  and  to-day,  travelled  over  the  whole 
ground,  and  seen  them  in  every  possible  position.  I  expected 
to  be  disappointed  in  the  first  view,  and  therefore  was  not. 
After  looking  and  studying  them  for  hours,  and  in  all  points 
of  view,  in  all  directions  of  sunlight.  I  have  £ot  something  like 


212  IIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.  JR. 

a  sense  of  their  magnitude,  and  a  feeling  of  their  sublimity. 
But  it  is  a  very  difficult  matter  to  persuade  yourself  of,  or 
rather  to  comprehend,  their  vastness.  I  am  not  going  to 
describe  them,  but  will  just  say,  that,  as  in  every  respect  they 
answer  the  highest  expectation,  so  in  some  they  go  beyond  it. 
The  Horse-shoe  Fall  is  far  more  extensive  than  I  supposed ; 
the  quantity  of  spray  is  vastly  greater.  The  Rapids  above  are 
hardly  less  grand  than  the  very  cataracts  ;  they  would  be  vis- 
ited as  wonders,  if  there  were  no  cataracts. 

"  The  American  Fall  is  not  so  far  inferior  to  the  British  as 
is  generally  supposed.  It  is  not  so  extensive,  but  has  its  own 
peculiar  beauties ;  and  one  of  the  very  finest  points  of  view  is 
at  its  base,  a  spot  seldom  visited  because  difficult  of  access.  It 
is  entirely  white,  while  the  British  is  a  mixture  of  the  most 
brilliant  green  and  white.  The  rainbow  is  a  very  trifling 
decoration.  These  are  the  main  points  of  remark  from  your 
present  correspondent. 

"  I  shall  be  able,  when  I  see  you,  to  tell  you  fifty  things 
you  never  dreamt  of.  I  wish  you  were  with  me,  and  a  dozen 
others  of  us.  How  sad  to  go  about  looking  at  such  things 
alone.  Not  a  face  here  I  ever  saw,  not  a  voice  that  I  know, 
and  not  a  soul  that  I  can  converse  with." 

to  the  same. 

"  Lake  Ontario, 
"  The  Good  Steamship  Froxtenac,  July  30. 
"  After  last  writing  from  the  Falls,  I  matured  my  plans  for 
a  homeward  jaunt;  in  doing  which  I  found  it  necessary  to 
skip  Rochester,  so  that,  if  you  have  sent  letters  thither,  all  is, 
I  shall  never  get  them.  I  exchanged  my  poor,  dear  horse  for 
another,  and  on  Friday  went  to  see  the  wonderful  works  at 
Lockport,  where  the  canal,  for  a  mile  or  two,  is  dug  down  through 
solid  rocks,  and  where  there  are  five  locks  in  connexion,  of 
most  beautiful  construction.     The  village  itself  is  just  budding 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  J13 

amongst  the  burnt  trees  and  broken  stones,  and  consists  of  log 
houses,  stone  barns,  stone  fences,  and  stone  grog-shops.  But 
there  was  not  a  house  there  five  years  ago,  and  in  five  more  it 
will  be  as  large  a  town  as  Worcester. 

"  I  returned  to  Canada  yesterday  afternoon,  and  came  on 
board  this  boat,  by  which  I  design  to  enter  the  St.  Lawrence 
as  far  as  Ogdensburg,  thence  to  Plattsburg,  thence  across  Lake 
Champlain  to  Burlington,  thence  to  Connecticut  River,  and 
down  the  river  to  Northborough.  I  cannot  go  to  Quebec  with- 
out greater  expense  of  time  and  money  than  I  can  afford.  My 
health  is  good,  but  the  seed  of  my  troubles  is  not  killed,  and 
uneasiness  and  cough  still  worry  me  a  little. " 

Pursuing  the  route  indicated  in  the  last  letter,  he 
landed  at  Ogdensburg,  and  passing  through  the  inter- 
vening portion  of  the  State  of  New  York,  arrived  on 
Saturday,  August  5  th,  at  Port  Kent  on  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  in  improved  health  and  excellent  spirits,  but  with 
his  funds  entirely  exhausted ;  to  which  particulars  the 
following  epistle,  which  he  despatched  to  his  friend, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Ingersoll  at  Burlington,  abundantly  bears 
witness. 

"  Sunburnt  and  tired,  a  disconsolate  traveller 
Rests  from  his  steed  at  the  inn  of  Port  Kent ; 

Neither  a  spendthrift,  a  drunkard,  or  reveller, 
Yet  emptied  his  purse  to  the  very  last  cent. 

Pity  his  case  then,  dear  good  Mr.  Ingersoll ; 

Send  him  two  dollars  (the  sum  is  but  puny),  or 
Sad  lack  of  help  shall  on  Sabbath-day  wring  your  soul 

For  leaving  embargoed 

Yours,  Henry  Ware,  Junior.''' 

Having  received  the  aid  thus  solicited,  he  spent  the 
Sunday  at  Burlington,  and,  afterward  passing  through 
Vermont  and  New  Hampshire,  reached  home  on  Satur- 


214  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

day  evening,  August  19th,  having  occupied  in  the  excur- 
sion fifty-four  days,  ridden  one  thousand  one  hundred 
and  sixty  miles  on  horseback,  and  about  five  hundred 
in  various  conveyances.  He  did  not  seem  at  first  to 
have  made  that  improvement  in  health,  which  had  been 
anticipated.  A  few  days  after  his  return  he  wrote  to 
his  brother  in  New  York  : 

"  August  27. 

"It  is  true,  I  have   improved  less  than   I 

hoped,  but  I  am  still  improving,  and  you  need  not  fear  but  that 
I  shall  take  care  of  myself.  I  have  brought  home  with  me  my 
horse,  and  I  propose  to  be  on  his  back  constantly.  I  plan  to 
remain  in  Boston  but  three  days  in  a  week,  including  Sun- 
days, and  the  other  four  to  be  travelling.  I  have  several 
excursions  in  view,  of  two  to  four  days  each,  which  I  shall 
take.  By  doing  this,  and  studying  none  till  November,  I  hope 
to  do  well." 

In  October  he  speaks  thus  of  his  health  and  other 
matters : 

"  OdOEER   18. 

"  As  to  myself,  you  may  depend  on  it  that  your  accounts 
have  deceived  you  as  to  my  health.  I  am  weekly  gaining 
ground ;  everybody  here  says  so.  I  preach  little  more  than 
half  the  time,  without  great  fatigue  ;  I  ride  on  horseback  every 
day  that  is  not  foul,  from  five  to  twenty  miles  ;  eighteen  miles 
to-day,  twelve  yesterday.  I  have  a  good  appetite,  and  not 
much  oppression  from  food  ;  sleep  pretty  well,  work  very  lit- 
tle, and  I  mean  to  live  thus  active  in  body  and  idle  in  thought 
all  winter.  I  have  given  up  some  of  my  usual  duties,  and  do 
not  mean  to  be  burdened  by  any  extra  cares.  I  say  this  to 
remove  your  anxieties.  Many  of  my  friends  and  parishioners 
have  urged  a  voyage,  but  I  could  not  think  myself  justified  in 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE.    Ji;.  215 

such  a  step,  while  I  felt  all  the  benefits  of  it  were  gradually 
coming  to  me  at  home.  I  cannot  perceive  now,  that  I  am  not 
as  well  as  ever ;  and,  to  convince  you  of  it,  I  have  half  a 
mind  to  ride  on  horseback  to  New  York,  and  catch  you 
napping.  I  go  in  this  style  to  Northampton  the  week  after 
next. 

"  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  exactly  what  our  condition  is  here, 

but  in  truth  I  do  not  know  myself.     Dr.  B has  drawn 

away  some  from  our  Societies,  and  I  suspect  that  Orthodoxy 
rather  gains  ground.  Many  of  our  ministers  and  more  of  our 
laymen  think  no  exertions  should  be  made  ;  and  their  sloth 
by  the  side  of  Orthodox  zeal  produces  very  unfavorable 
impressions.  Some  are  awake  and  active,  and  will  prevent 
the  cause  from  sinking,  if  they  do  not  promote  it.  Our  great- 
est evil  is  want  of  ministers  ;  openings  appear  everywhere, 
but  we  cannot  make  use  of  them.  Our  Theological  School  is 
so  poor,  that  it  almost  languishes  ;  three  applicants  went  away 
because  there  was  no  support  for  them.  We  mean  to  create 
scholarships  in  our  several  parishes.  But,  in  accomplishing 
our  various  designs,  we  are  obliged  to  call  so  often  and  for  so 
much  money,  that  I  am  afraid  we  shall  disgust  our  people. 
I  [y  parish  raised  last  year  more  than  five  hundred  dollars  for 
the  Theological  School,  and  have  now  just  raised  four  hun- 
dred and  seventy  dollars  for  India,  besides  about  three  hun- 
dred for  other  purposes  of  less  magnitude.  We  have  appointed 
Mr.  Tuckerman  Pastor  of  the  Poor,  and  his  support  comes 
from  the  ladies  of  our  several  Societies." 

In  the  course  of  the  autumn,  the  good  effects  of  his 
long  absence  continued  to  manifest  themselves.  He  im- 
proved much,  and  by  winter  was  in  better  health  than 
usual,  and  was  able  through  the  whole  season  to  accom- 
plish more  than  he  had  perhaps  ever  done  before. 

In  November,  he  wrote  thus  to  one  in  the  ministry, 


216  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

who  was  laboring  under  much  despondency  as  to  his 
success  in  his  calling. 

"  November  13. 

"  It  distresses  me  to  hear  you  speak  so  distrustfully  of  your- 
self. When  I  know  your  good  purposes  and  principles,  and 
your  felicity  of  expression  and  real  power  of  communicating 
thought,  it  grieves  me,  that,  for  want  of  a  little  of  that  confi- 
dence with  which  so  many  are  overstocked,  you  should  make 
yourself  miserable.  Why  not  acquire  it%?  AH  my  power  of 
doing  anything,  which  has  led  to  the  reputation  I  have  got, 
(God  knows  how  little  I  deserve  it,  and  there  are  moments 
when  I  think  of  it  with  unspeakable  wonder  and  shame,  for  I 
cannot  take  to  myself  any  credit,)  has  been  owing  to  a  stern 
resolution  and  vow  to  throw  off  my  diffidence,  and  substitute 
for  it  a  certain  nonchalance  and  affected  indifference.  This 
was  hard  to  do,  and  I  suffered  enough ;  but  gradually  I  did  it, 
and  now,  after  ten  years'  practice,  I  am  pretty  bold.  I  had  my 
fears,  my  mortifications,  my  horrors  of  all  kinds ;  but  I  deter- 
mined to  overcome  them,  or  they  would  have  overcome  me. 

"  I  do  wish  you  would  do  the  same.  You  would  relieve 
yourself  of  a  world  of  trouble ;  and  it  is  all  you  wTant,  in  order 
to  have  your  true  worth  rightly  appreciated  by  yourself  and 
others.  You  have  a  perfect  right  to  assume  boldness,  and  to 
feel  as  if  speaking  with  authority.  Who  has  the  right,  if  not 
the  minister  of  Christ?  If  he  feels  as  he  must  do,  on  the 
great  subject  he  treats,  let  him  give  way  to  his  feelings  ;  let 
them  have  full  sweep  ;  let  him  not  repress  them,  subdue  them, 
but  cherish  and  express  them.  There  is  power  enough  in 
them  to  overcome  and  drive  away  the  other  feelings  which 
weigh  down  a  timid  mind.  Give  them  the  mastery,  and  they 
will  subdue  those  other  feelings  of  a  more  selfish  character, 
which  really  ought  not  to  intrude  on  him  who  is  speaking  for 
God,  nor  be  suffered  to  palsy  his  exertions. 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  almost  all  the  eminent  men,  whose 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  217 

lives  we  are  acquainted  with,  passed  through  similar  trials  ; 
and,  by  struggling  with  them,  became  eminent  ?  Do  not  give 
way  to  desponding  feelings.  If  there  be  truth  in  man,  believe 
me  when  I  say,  you  have  no  cause.  Your  despondency  makes 
the  very  evil  you  fear.  Instead  of  dwelling  on  your  own  sit- 
uation, and  nursing  the  thoughts  that  dishearten  you,  shake 
them  off,  allow  them  no  entrance  ;  give  yourself  to  your  duties 
alone,  and  let  your  interest  in  them  increase  and  increase,  till 
it  absorbs  all  your  feelings,  and  till  it  drives  these  melancholy 
thoughts  away.  Do  not  reject  this  advice,  for  it  is  really 
wholesome,  at  least,  well  meant,  and  the  result  of  experience. 
Make  an  effort,  I  beg  of  you,  and  God  give  you  success." 
1Q 


C  H  A  P  T  E  R    XII. 

FORMATION  OF  A  NEW  SOCIETY  IN  NEW  YORK  —  SERMON  AT  THE 
DEDICATION  OF  ITS  CHURCH  BY  DR.  CHANN1NG  — MR.  WARE  INVITED 
TO  BECOME  ITS  PASTOR  — HE  DECLINES  —  HIS  REASONS  —  HIS  SECOND 
MARRIAGE  — PLAN  FOR  A  NEW  THEOLOGICAL  SCHOOL  —  ITS  FAILURE 
—  LECTURES    ON    PALESTINE  — THEIR    OBJECT    AND    SUCCESS. 

1826-28.     mT.  32-34. 

A  new  Unitarian  Society  had  been  formed  in  New 
York,  and  their  church  was  dedicated  in  the  latter  part 
of  November  of  this  year.  The  sermon,  on  the  occa- 
sion, was  preached  by  Dr.  Channing.  It  was  one  of 
those  great  efforts  by  which  he  many  times  produced  so 
remarkable  an  impression.  His  reputation,  already  so 
widely  spread,  drew  together  a  very  large  audience,  and 
one  of  a  different  description  from  that  which  usually 
attended  in  a  Unitarian  church.  In  a  letter  to  my 
brother  is  contained  an  account  of  this  performance. 
"Mr.  Channing  preached  with  wonderful  animation 
and  power,  to  an  overflowing  house,  for  an  hour  and  a 
half,  on  the  tendency  of  Unitarianism,  beyond  any 
other  form  of  Christianity,  to  form  characters  of  pure 
and  exalted  piety."  "If  I  am  not  greatly  mistaken, 
it  is  the  most  remarkable   sermon  he   ever  preached. 

B said  he  never  was  so  excited  in  his  life, — that. 

when  he  got  home,  he  began  jumping  over  the  table 
and  chairs  like  one  crazy.  The  audience  was  such  as 
probably  no  other  preacher  in  this  city  ever  had  power 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 


219 


to  draw.  So,  also,  in  Chamber  Street  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing ;  the  house  was  filled  full,  and  of  the  cream  of  the 
community.  Of  the  dedication  sermon  what  shall  I 
say?  It  was  altogether,  and  beyond  all  comparison, 
the  greatest  oral  communication  I  ever  listened  to. 
The  man  was  full  of  fire,  and  his  body  seemed,  un- 
der some  of  his  tremendous  sentences,  to  expand  out 
into  a  giant.  He  rose  on  his  feet,  thrust  up  both  arms, 
and  screamed,  as  one  may  say,  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
and  his  face,  say  those  who  saw  it,  was,  if  anything, 
more  meaning  than  his  words." 

In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  after  the  dedication  of 
the  new  church,  my  brother  Henry  received  an  invita- 
tion to  become  its  pastor.  In  their  letter  the  committee 
say:  "We  beg  leave  to  express  our  deep  conviction, 
that  the  prosperity  of  this  church,  and  of  the  great 
cause  to  which  it  is  devoted,  is  intimately  connected 
with  your  acceptance  of  this  invitation."  Some  inti- 
mations that  a  movement  of  this  kind  was  intended, 
had  already  been  made  to  him,  and.  in  answer  to  them, 
he  had,  some  time  before,  thus  expressed  himself  to  his 
brother  already  settled  in  New  York :  "I  wish  you 
would  think  and  say  nothing  about  my  removal.  It  is 
absolutely  out  of  the  question.  I  have  looked  at  it, 
turned  it  over,  longed  for  it ;  if  there  is  anything  I 
should  prefer  in  this  world  to  anything  else,  it  is  this. 
But  it  is  impossible,  and  I  will  not  deceive  myself  or 
you  by  any  false  hopes.  I  shall  always  come  and  see 
you  when  I  can,  and  be  with  you  as  much  as  I  can : 
but  to  live  near  you  is  not  to  be  granted  me  this  side 
heaven."  After  so  decided  an  expression  of  his  feelings 
on  this  subject,  the  invitation  came  upon  him  unex- 
pectedly.    There  is  no  doubt,  as  the  above  passage  ini- 


220  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    J"R. 

plies,  that,  on  many  accounts,  he  felt  a  strong  inclina- 
tion to  accept  it. 

Not  that  he  had  any  reason  for  dissatisfaction  with 
his  situation  in  Boston.  It  was  everything  which  he 
desired.  His  attachment  to  his  people  and  to  the  com- 
munity was  very  strong.  But  having  taken  a  pecu- 
liar interest  in  the  formation  and  prosperity  of  the 
church  at  New  York,  and  regarding  that  city  as  a 
great  and  most  important  field  for  the  planting  and 
growth  of  liberal  principles,  he  had  an  earnest  hope, 
that,  with  a  coadjutor,  with  whom  he  was  so  closely 
connected,  and  with  whom  he  warmly  sympathized,  he 
could  do  something  to  further  this  object.  There  were 
also  some  strong  feelings  of  a  personal  nature,  both  on 
his  own  and  his  children's  account,  which  would  have 
been  gratified  by  a  residence  there.  The  step  was 
urged  upon  him  very  earnestly  from  many  quarters,  and 
he  gave  it  a  serious  consideration.  The  motives  pre- 
sented had  undoubtedly  much  weight ;  he  took  ample 
time  for  deliberation,  and  looked  at  the  matter  from 
every  point  of  view.  Still,  although  it  was  almost 
painful  to  him  to  resist  the  solicitations  of  so  many 
friends,  he  came  at  last  very  decidedly  to  that  conclu- 
sion, to  which  his  natural  impulse  tended  from  the  first. 
The  following  extracts  from  his  letters  exhibit  the  con- 
flict of  his  feelings  on  this  subject. 

to  his  brother  william. 

"  December  21,  1826. 
"  I  find  to-day,  that  my  advice  to  you,  to  get  a  minister  at 
once,  recoils  on  my  own  head.     I  have  before  me  the  com- 
munication of  the  committee,  and  a  private  letter  from  H.  D. 

S .     I  did  not  expect,  after  all  the  explicitness  which  I 

have  used  on  the  subject,  that  it  would  come  to  this.     Do  the 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  221 

gentlemen  consider  it  possible  for  me  to  accept  their  offer?  I 
have  given  to  them  no  encouragement,  nor  to  you.  I  have 
been  plain,  unequivocal,  decided,  allowing  always  that  the 
situation  itself  would  not  be  unpleasant,  but  not  wavering  a 
hair's  breadth  from  the  determined  assertion,  that  I  could  not 
take  it.  After  this,  their  letter  embarrasses  me,  and  must  em- 
barrass them, — them,  for  it  will  not  now  be  so  easy  to  make 
another  selection,  or  induce  another  to  come, — me,  because  I 
must  either  answer  them  without  consulting  my  people,  and 
thus  perhaps  not  seem  to  treat  them  with  all  the  respectful 
consideration,  which  is  due  under  such  circumstances,  or  I 
must  consult  my  people,  and  thereby  give  rise  to  suspicions, 
and  hard  thoughts,  and  probably  harsh  words  among  them, — 
at  any  rate,  turn  their  attention  from  the  religious  state  in 
which  they  are  growing,  to  a  matter  which  will  not  favor  their 
religious  growth.  For  it  cannot  be  concealed  from  them,  that 
the  affair  has  been  before  me  some  time,  that  I  have  been  con- 
sulted before  the  church  was  built; — and  then  how  can  I  per- 
suade them  that  I  never  have  in  any  way  sought  or  encouraged 
the  application  ?  I  feel  greatly  embarrassed.  I  would  have 
been  spared  this  crisis,  and  how  to  get  over  it  in  the  best  way 
I  know  not.  If  it  were  possible  to  keep  it  secret,  I  should  get 
on,  but  I  suppose  no  precautions  on  my  part  would  effect  this. 
11 1  cannot  say  to  you  on  this  subject  what  I  have  not  said 
before.  If  I  were  free  to  live  and  work  with  you,  to  be,  with 
my  children,  near  you  and  Mary,  to  labor  in  one  of  the  finest 
fields  which  God  has  opened  in  our  country  would  be  of  all 
things  most  pleasant  and  desirable  to  me.  I  could  not  ask,  I 
could  not  fancy,  a  place  more  to  my  liking.  This  I  have  said, 
and  still  say.  But,  unless  my  views  of  duty  are  changed,  I 
cannot,  you  know  I  cannot,  leave  this  place  for  that.  I  will 
not  go  over  all  the  ground ;  but  there  is  one  reason  now 
operating,  more  powerful  than  ever.  The  Orthodox  interest 
is  full  of  energy,  and  an  assault  is  making  on  us,  which  it 
wTill  not  be  easy  to  repel.  Every  voice  and  every  arm  is 
19* 


222  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

needed  here ;  and  I  can  say  to  you,  what  I  could  not  say  else- 
where, that  there  are  needful  measures  to  be  taken  of  essential 
and  vital  importance,  which  I  think  will  not  be  taken  unless  I 
am  here.  Now,  unless  this  state  of  things  changes,  I  cannot 
quit  my  post ;  it  would  be  treason." 

to  the  same. 

"  December  25,  1826. 

11  My  last  was  written  before  reading  your  long  letter,  (of 
which  I  have  to-day  received  the  codicil  or  postscript.)  I  have 
perused  it  carefully,  and  have  read  it  and  talked  about  it  to 
father  and  John.  I  acknowledge  the  power  of  some  considera- 
tions ; — you  have  stated  them,  as  father  expressed  it,  so  as  to 
make  an  exceedingly  strong  case.  Some  of  them  I  had  not 
seen  in  the  same  light  before.  You  may  rely  on  my  giving 
them  all  fair  weight.  I  am  in  for  it,  and  will  not  decide  till  I 
have  canvassed  the  matter  thoroughly.  If  I  know  my  own 
heart,  I  have  no  desire  but  to  learn  what  is  right  and  do  it ; 
not  an  easy  matter,  perhaps,  and  certain  to  be  attended  with 
unpleasant  consequences,  whichever  way  the  balance  may 
turn.  Why  then  did  you  force  me  to  it  ?  What  you  say  of 
my  parish  being  no  obstacle  surprises  me  ;  the  very  circum- 
stances you  name  render  it  a  chief  obstacle.  I  am  bound  to  it 
in  a  peculiar  way ;  and  their  uncommon  kindness  to  me, 
instead  of  rendering  easy,  renders  difficult  a  separation.  If 
my  parish  were  out  of  the  way,  there  would  be  comparatively 
small  room  for  hesitation.  For,  as  you  say,  whatever  I  can 
do  for  the  church  at  large,  I  can  do  as  well  in  New  York  (and 
perhaps  more  of  it)  as  in  Boston.  I  have  a  thousand  daily 
interruptions  here,  which  there  would  not  annoy  me. 

"  Your  cause  will  not  suffer  for  want  of  advocates,  you  may 
rest  assured.  I  have  been  already  compelled  to  hear  counsel 
on  your  side  several  times,  and  able  counsel  too.  One  thing 
I  rejoice  in,  that  the  circumstances  are  of  such  a  character,  as 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  223 

will  prevent,  I  think,  all  possible  imputation  of  bad,  and  wrong, 
and  selfish  motives,  whatever  my  decision  may  be ;  I  may 
mistake,  but  I  think  it  impossible.  I  am  sure  none  such  will 
govern  me. 

"  I  write  because  I  cannot  help  thinking  about  it,  not  because 
I  have  anything  worth  saying.  That  I  am  perplexed  and  em- 
barrassed, you  may  easily  suppose.  May  I  only  be  led  right ! 
If  it  were  merely  a  personal  question,  how  easy !  — but  it  is  a 
question  of  great  complication  and  very  extensive  bearings. 

"  Dec.  26.  I  find,  in  reading  this  over,  that  I  have  probably 
given  you  the  impression  that  everybody  favors  my  removal. 
Not  so.  Some  urge  me  as  strongly  against  it,  as  others  for  it. 
I  stated  what  I  said,  in  order  to  convince  you  that  I  am  deter- 
mined to  deliberate,  and  view  the  whole  matter  thoroughly  on 
every  side  ;  and,  although  I  am  still  persuaded  that  I  cannot  go, 
yet,  for  your  sake,  as  well  as  from  the  importance  and  great- 
ness of  the  question,  I  will  look  at  it  impartially.  Depend  upon 
it,  you  have  a  strong  pleader  in  my  heart ;  and,  if  there  were 
no  other  voice,  I  should  be  at  your  side  at  once." 

to  the  same. 

"  January  3,  1827. 
"  After  much  anxiety  and  painful  suspense,  I  have  sent  a 
negative  answer  to  the  call.  I  found  it  was  impossible  to  do 
differently,  though  I  did  my  best  to  persuade  myself  that  I 
might.  And  now  it  is  over,  and  I  will  say  no  more  about  it. 
If  it  had  pleased  Providence  to  throw  us  together,  it  would 
have  been  delightful  indeed ;  but  as  it  is,  we  must  be  content 
to  labor  and  live  apart." 

TO    MRS.  WILLIAM    WARE. 

11  January  6,  1S27. 
"  You  will  perceive  that  your  two  kind  letters,  with  Wil- 
liam's last,  came  after  I  had  despatched  my  definitive.     I  can 
therefore  give  no  heed  to  yonr  arguments,  which,  indeed,  seem 


224  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

to  me  to  be  without  force.  I  could  do  nothing  for  my  health 
in  New  York  by  working  less,  for  I  think  no  one  should  take 
that  post  who  will  not  work  more  ;  and  I  certainly  could  not 
think  myself  justified  in  going  into  it,  without  spending  far 
more  labor  than  I  undergo  here.  So  that,  so  far  as  health  is 
concerned,  the  Boston  station  would  be  the  more  favorable. 
You  say,  '  my  inclination  should  have  a  little  place.'  I  found 
at  last,  that  it  had  a  great  place,  and  that  without  it  the  other 
reasons  for  removal  would  have  weighed  little  indeed.  If  you 
and  William  had  not  been  where  you  are,  I  doubt  if  I  should 
have  hesitated  an  hour." 

His  determination  was  made  up  at  last  very  clearly 
and  decidedly.  It  left  no  doubts  or  misgivings  behind 
it,  and  at  no  subsequent  period  did  he  view  it  with  re- 
gret. He  was  governed  principally,  as  I  think,  by  these 
considerations : 

1.  The  general  opinion  which  he  had  always  main- 
tained, that  ministers  should  be  slow  to  consent  to  a 
removal  from  one  parish  to  another ;  never  for  the  sake 
merely  of  bettering  their  worldly  condition,  nor  without 
a  probability  of  greater  usefulness  in  a  new  situation. 

2.  The  opinion,  notwithstanding  his  view  of  the 
importance  of  the  spread  of  liberal  principles  in  New 
York,  that  still  the  great  battle  for  them  was  to  be 
fought  in  Boston,  and  in  the  surrounding  community. 
He  believed  that  their  dissemination  abroad  depended 
on  their  condition  here,  and  that  whoever  was  capable 
of  doing  great  good  at  any  point  out  of  the  centre,  could 
do  as  much  or  more  at  the  centre  itself. 

It  was  on  the  same  grounds  that  he  had  more  than 
once  opposed  the  removal  of  some  of  the  leading  clergy- 
men from  Boston  and  its  neighborhood,  for  the  doubtful 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  226 

purpose  of  building  up  new  Societies  even  at  important 
points. 

In  June,  1827,  he  was  married  to  Miss  Mary  Lovell 
Pickard,  daughter  of  Mark  Pickard,  Esq.,  formerly  a 
merchant  of  Boston,  and  gathered  his  children  again 
around  his  own  hearth.  Except  occasional  visits,  he 
had  now  been  separated  from  them  about  three  years, 
during  which  they  had  been  in  the  families  of  his  sisters, 
Mrs.  Allen,  at  Northborough,  and  Mrs.  E.  B.  Hall,  at 
Northampton.  This,  to  one  whose  domestic  affections 
were  very  strong,  had  been  a  great  privation ;  and 
nothing  but  incessant  occupation  could  have  rendered 
the  separation  even  tolerable.  This  re-union,  under 
circumstances  peculiarly  favorable  to  his  and  their  wel- 
fare, and  also  to  the  successful  prosecution  of  his  pro- 
fessional duties,  was  one  of  the  happy  events  of  his  life ; 
and  the  year  which  followed  it,  whilst  it  was  one  of  the 
most  active,  was  also  to  all  human  appearance  one  of 
the  most  successful  of  his  ministry.  He  had,  in  the 
fullest  manner,  those  testimonies  to  the  efficiency  of  his 
labors,  which  were  to  be  found  in  the  increased  atten- 
tion paid  to  his  preaching,  the  increasing  fulness  of  his 
congregation,  and  multiplied  proofs  of  the  consideration 
in  which  he  was  held  by  the  community. 

His  marriage  was  followed  by  a  visit  to  the  city  of 
New  York,  where  he  preached  three  times  on  the  17th 
of  June.  From  thence  he  took  a  short  journey  into  the 
interior  of  that  State,  again  visiting  his  friends  at  Tren- 
ton, and  spending  a  Sunday  with  them.  In  the  course 
of  the  year  he  made  other  excursions  in  various  direc- 
tions ;  but,  agreeably  to  what  he  says  in  one  of  his  let- 
ters, ("I  make  few  journeys,  and  none  for  pleasure,") 
these  were  for  some  purpose,  or  were  made  to  subserve 


226  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

some  purpose,  connected  with  his  great  objects.  In 
August,  he  passed  a  short  time  in  the  Old  Colony,  going 
there  for  the  purpose  of  preaching  the  annual  Academy 
Sermon  at  Sandwich,  on  Thursday,  August  23d,  and, 
on  his  way  there,  having  also  preached  the  day  before 
at  Plymouth.  In  September,  he  gave  the  sermon  at 
the  dedication  of  a  church  in  Saxonville,  Framingham, 
built  by  the  proprietors  of  the  manufacturing  establish- 
ments in  that  place.  In  October,  he  visited  the  State  of 
Maine,  and  delivered  an  address  before  the  Kermebunk 
Unitarian  Association  on,  '-the  Trinity,''  which  was 
published  afterwards  as  a  tract.  In  November,  he 
went  to  Dover,  N.  H.,  in  order  to  assist  in  the  gathering 
of  a  society  in  that  place,  and  in  the  same  week  he 
preached  before  the  Female  Humane  Society  of  Marble- 
head.  During  the  preceding  summer  he  had  also  been 
engaged  in  selecting,  preparing,  and  carrying  through 
the  press,  a  volume  of  the  sermons,  and  extracts  from 
the  sermons,  of  his  deceased  friend,  John  E.  Abbot,  a 
labor  in  which  he  took  peculiar  delight.  He  had,  in 
addition  to  all  these  extra-parochial  engagements,  a 
Bible  class  once  a  week  on  Monday,  and  on  every 
Tuesday  evening  his  house  was  open  to  his  parish,  who 
met  there  in  an  unceremonious  manner  for  religious 
intercourse  and  conversation. 

In  the  course  of  this  season  a  plan  was  suggested,  in 
which  he  became  interested,  for  establishing  a  new 
theological  school,  on  liberal  principles,  somewhere  in 
the  State  of  New  York.  It  was  proposed  that  this 
should  be  effected  by  a  union  with  the  sect  of  "  Chris- 
turns"  who  were  numerous  in  the  interior  of  New  York 
and  the  Western  States,  and  whose  views  of  Christian 
doctrine  assimilated  very  closely  with  those  of  the  Uni- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  227 

tarians  of  New  England.  This  project  seems  to  have 
been  suggested  by  Mr.  Clough,  one  of  their  prominent 
leaders,  as  appears  from  the  following  letters. 

TO    MR.  ALLEN. 

"July  23,  1S27. 
"  We  have  had  no  little  talk  here  within  a  few  days,  respect- 
ing a  new  theological  school.  Mr.  Clough  has  proposed,  that 
the  Unitarians  and  '  Christians  '  should  unite  in  one,  on  the 
Hudson  River.  Many  of  us  think  favorably  of  the  plan,  and 
are  disposed  to  patronize  it,  if  feasible,  but  are  a  little  fearful 
that  it  is  not.  Others  start  strong  objections  to  it  in  toto. 
Something  must  be  done  to  gain  us  an  increase  of  ministers. 
Has  the  matter  ever  been  a  subject  at  your  Association  ?  I 
wish  it  might  be." 

to  the  rev.  i.  b.  pierce. 

"August  1,  1827. 
"  I  am  sorry  to  say  to  you,  that  Mr.  Gannett  will  not  be 
able  to  leave  here  and  visit  you  this  summer.  He  has  how- 
ever been  appointed  delegate  to  the  '  Christian  '  Conference  at 
West  Bloomfield,  in  September,  and  I  hope  will  then  be  able 
to  give  you  a  call.  Meantime  I  presume  that  you  have  learned 
from  him  all  that  may  be  necessary  respecting  your  labors  for 
the  Association,  in  wrhich  I  pray  you  may  be  successful  and 
happy.  Labors  of  this  sort  are  most  needful  to  be  done,  and 
nothing  is  more  desirable  than  that  our  preachers  should  be 
so  multiplied,  and  our  means  of  support  so  increased,  as  to 
enable  us  to  send  messengers  throughout  the  land.  But  at 
present  the  most  that  we  can  do  is  little.  You  will  be  glad 
to  know  that  the  Theological  School  at  Cambridge  is  flourish- 
ing, and  that  our  recent  Exhibition  wTas  the  most  promising 
we  have  ever  had.  If,  instead  of  six  we  had  twenty  such 
young  men,  we  could  speak  a  loud  word  for  the  truth.     A 


228  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.   JR. 

plan  has  been  proposed  for  instituting  a  new  seminary  in  your 
State,  near  the  River,  in  connexion  with  the  '  Christian  ■ 
denomination,  for  the  purpose  of  multiplying  preachers. 
Hardly  any  encouragement  has  been  received  yet ;  but  perhaps, 
after  agitating  the  subject  a  little  longer,  we  may  find  the 
thing  feasible.  Doubtless  many  would  be  excited  to  such  an 
institution,  who  are  not  within  reach  of  Cambridge  influence  ; 
and,  by  multiplying  means,  we  should  multiply  men.  Mr. 
Clough,  an  elder  of  the  '  Christians,'  a  man  of  a  good  deal  of 
talent  and  influence,  has  taken  an  interest  in  this  subject,  and, 
if  he  succeeds  in  effecting  anything,  will  be  a  great  blessing 
to  his  denomination. " 

This  plan,  it  does  not  appear  why,  failed  of  its  accom- 
plishment. It  is  not  likely,  that  two  denominations 
whose  members  differed  so  entirely  from  each  other  in 
their  education,  habits  and  manners,  social  condition 
and  associations,  and  in  their  modes  of  speaking  and 
feeling  on  religious  subjects,  would  ever  have  found  it 
for  their  mutual  interest  to  be  so  closely  connected  as 
this  plan  implied.  However  they  sympathized  in  their 
doctrinal  views  of  Christianity,  there  might  have  been 
found  other  differences  between  them,  which  would  have 
proved  a  more  serious  obstacle  to  the  success  of  the  in- 
stitution than  even  a  diversity  of  creeds.  My  brother's 
earnest  adoption  of  this  plan,  on  its  first  proposal,  grew 
out  of  his  perception,  expressed  in  the  above  extracts, 
of  the  great  want  of  recruits  in  the  ranks  of  the  clergy. 
To  this,  indeed,  he  was  constantly  awake  and  frequent- 
ly alludes.  He  had  this  further  reason ;  the  standard 
of  education,  the  cast  of  manners,  the  modes  of  thinking 
and  living,  and  consequently  of  preaching,  of  those 
educated  in  and  around  Cambridge,  were  such  as,  to  a 
certain  extent,  to  disqualify  them  for  addressing  certain 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  229 

classes  of  hearers,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  an  im- 
pression favorable  to  liberal  views  of  Christianity.  He 
hoped  that,  in  an  institution  like  this,  ministers  might 
be  trained,  who  would  be  adapted  to  such  hearers. 

His  interest  in  this  plan  probably  induced  him  to 
devise  one  for  supplying  the  pecuniary  wants  of  the 
school  at  Cambridge,  and  increasing  its  means  of  use- 
fulness, which  he  put  in  execution  the  next  winter.  In 
the  preceding  year  he  had  delivered,  in  the  course  of 
his  Vestry  services,  a  few  lectures  on  the  Geography 
of  Palestine,  for  the  purpose  of  conveying  to  his  own  pa- 
rishioners more  distinct  views  of  Scripture  facts.  These 
lectures  had  been  received  with  interest,  and  they  had 
well  answered  their  end.  He  proposed  now  to  revise 
and  extend  them,  to  illustrate  them  by  maps  and  draw- 
ings, and  to  deliver  them  to  a  public  audience,  at  a 
moderate  price,  with  the  view  of  appropriating  the  pro- 
ceeds to  the  education  of  young  men  for  the  ministry  at 
Cambridge.  His  hope  was  to  raise  in  various  ways 
two  thousand  dollars  for  this  object,  of  which  he  in- 
tended that  the  proceeds  of  this  course  should  form  the 
nucleus. 

These  lectures  were  given  in  an  apartment  in  a  build- 
ing which  had  been  recently  erected  by  the  Boston 
Athenaeum,  for  the  purpose  of  furnishing  convenient 
rooms  for  public  lectures  and  for  the  exhibition  of  paint- 
ings. The  attention  excited  by  the  announcement  of 
this  course  was  far  greater  than  had  been  anticipated. 
The  introductory  lecture,  which  was  given  in  the  last 
week  of  January,  1828,  was  attended  by  a  great  con- 
course ;  and,  the  number  of  persons  who  had  bought 
tickets  being  greater  than  the  room  could  accommodate, 
it  was  judged  expedient  to  repeat  them,  and  they  were 
20 


230  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

accordingly  delivered  to  a  second  audience,  the  two 
courses  going  on  at  the  same  time.  This  unexpected 
success  gave  him  very  great  pleasure,  much  more  I 
think  than  if  the  object  had  been  a  personal  one.  He 
speaks  of  it  thus  in  some  of  his  letters  to  Mr.  Allen  and 
others. 

';  January  2S. 
"  I  do  not  yet  know  about  the  proceeds  of  my  lectures.  The 
Introductory  was  crowded  and  encouraging.  I  am  told  from 
every  quarter,  that  I  shall  sell  all  my  tickets,  and,  if  so,  I  shall 
get  about  seven  hundred  dollars.  But  I  have  not  expected, 
and  do  not  expect,  so  much.  If  I  can  get  encouragement  to 
repeat  them,  I  shall  be  rejoiced.  I  hope  to  go  also  to  Salem  ; 
and,  if  I  could  do  both,  I  should  furnish  my  two  thousand  dol- 
lars this  year." 

"  February  1. 

"  I  have  been  busy,  obliged  to  preach  at  dedication,  lecture, 
&c.  I  gave  my  first  lecture  last  evening,  and  feel  happy  and 
thankful  for  my  success.  I  sold  all  my  tickets,  and  might 
have  sold  more.  But  the  hall  was  full.  I  have  just  been 
counting  over  my  gains,  and  find  in  my  hands  six  hundred 
and  seventy-three  dollars,  and  about  ten  more  to  be  received 
from  Hilliard.  My  expenses  will  be  not  far  from  fifty  ;  so  that 
I  shall  give  six  hundred  and  more  to  the  Institution, — a  very 
good  beginning.  Gentlemen  urge  me  to-day  to  repeat,  and  I 
rather  think  I  shall  do  it.  If,  by  so  doing,  I  could  fill  the  hall, 
I  should  be  right  glad." 

"  My  Palestine  Lectures  have  succeeded  to  my  astonish- 
ment. They  yield  eight  hundred  dollars  for  the  permanent 
scholarship,  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for  the  present 
year,  besides  my  expenses." 

"  My  second  course  is  about  half  as  full  as  the  first.  I 
think  people  are  interested,  and  the  lectures  are  pleasant  to 
myself,   partly    written    and    partly   extempore.     I    am    only 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE,    JR.  231 


cramped  for  time,  as  twenty  lectures  would  not  be  half  enough, 
and  I  give  only  five.  I  am  going  to  Cambridge  with  them,  and 
probably  to  Salem,  and  have  been  invited  to  Waltham.  I 
shall  thus  get  about  twelve  hundred  dollars  this  year.  How 
to  scrape  together  eight  hundred  dollars  more,  I  do  not  know, 
unless  I  should  go  to  New  York.     How  would  that  do  ? " 

He  was  probably  at  no  period  of  his  life  more  busily- 
engaged  in  every  method  of  exertion,  than  during  this 
season.  He  was  literally  crowded  with  occupation  of 
every  kind.  Yet  even  in  the  midst  of  all  this  activity, 
—  this  unremitting  devotion  of  himself  to  ordinary  and 
extraordinary  duty, — whilst  he  was  actually  accom- 
plishing so  much,  and  allowing  himself  so  little  time 
for  relaxation  or  recreation  as  to  excite  the  alarm,  and 
call  forth  the  remonstrances  of  his  friends,  he  was  fre- 
quently visited  by  a  strong  feeling  of  self-dissatisfac- 
tion. It  often  seemed  to  him,  as  if  he  did  not  accom- 
plish all  that  he  might,— as  if  he  had  within  his  reach 
means  and  opportunities  of  usefulness,  of  which  he  did 
not  fully  avail  himself.  One  might  almost  hesitate  in 
this  case  to  give  credit  to  the  reality  of  such  a  state  of 
mind,  as  that  which  dictated  the  following  letter,  did 
not  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was  written 
afford  the  surest  proof  of  its  sincerity.  It  was  dated 
on  his  birth-day,  during  a  short  visit  to  New  York. 

TO    HIS    WIFE. 

"  New  York,  April  21,  1S2S. 
"  This  is  my  birth-day,  and  I  was  occupied  yesterday,  and 
last  night,  and  this  morning,  in  looking  over  my  life,  and  into 
my  character  and  heart.  I  would  not  dare  to  tell  even  you  all 
that  I  have  seen  to  mortify  and  shame  me ;  and  yet  I  have  not 
been  able  to  feel  as  I  ought;  and,  what  is  worse,  I  fear  that  I 
am  too  inveterate  to  profit  by  my  knowledge  of  myself,  but 
must  go  on,  one  of  that  miserable  multitude  who  '  see  the 


232  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

right,  and  yet  the  wrong  pursue.'  I  never  yet  was  satisfied 
with  my  mode  of  life  for  one  year ; — perhaps  I  may  except 
one,  the  first  year  that  I  was  in  Exeter.  But  since  that,  I  have 
been  growing  worse  and  worse.  I  did  think  soberly,  that, 
when  I  was  settled  down  with  you,  I  should  turn  over  a  new 
leaf;  and  I  began ;  but,  by  foolish  degrees,  I  have  got  back  to 
all  my  accustomed  carelessness  and  waste  of  powers,  and  am 
doing  nothing  in  proportion  to  what  I  ought  to  do.  In  my 
standing  and  position,  I  have  a  great  responsibility.  I  know 
what  people,  many  of  them,  think,  and  what  is  the  view  of  the 
public.  I  know  that  I  have  bestowed  on  me  power  to  do  a 
great  deal,  and  a  singular  facility  in  doing  some  things  useful, 
which  lay  me  under  an  obligation  ;  and  I  know  that  I  do 
nothing  in  proportion  to  this  ability  and  facility.  Yet  other 
people  tell  me  I  do  a  great  deal,  and  I  am  stupid  enough  to 
take  their  judgment  instead  of  my  own. 

"  These,  dear  Mary,  are  the  morning  reflections  with  which 
I  open  my  thirty-fifth  year.  Will  the  year  be  any  better  for 
them  ?  I  hope  so,  but  I  fear  not ;  for  I  do  not  feel  the  weight 
and  solemnity  of  these  considerations,  as  they  ought  to  be.  felt. 
My  heart  is  hardened,  and  my  conscience  seared ;  and  I  ex- 
pect to  live  and  die  as  I  am,  and  find  that  my  whole  reward  is 
in  this  world.  Dear  Mary,  I  ask  pardon  for  this  strain  ;  but  I 
could  not  help  it.  Would  to  God  I  could  feel  all  the  gratitude 
I  should  for  my  singular  blessings,  and  not  turn  them  into 
curses.  But,  when  T  see  how  I  use  them,-— in  a  word,  I  am 
afraid  that,  in  talking  to  others,  and  going  over  the  words  and 
sentiments  of  religion  and  virtue,  I  have  lost  the  power  to 
apply  them." 

But  it  was  the  will  of  Providence,  that  he  should  be 
suddenly  interrupted  in  the  midst  of  these  earnest  and 
zealous  exertions,  by  events  which  not  only  suspended 
his  labors  for  a  long  period,  but  changed  the  aspect  of 
his  whole  future  life. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

SEVERE  ILLNESS  IN  THE  VILLAGE  OF  WARE  —  REMOVAL  TO  WORCES- 
TER AND  GRADUAL  RECOVERY— ESTABLISHMENT  OF  THE  PROFES- 
SORSHIP OF  PULPIT  ELOQUENCE  AT  CAMBRIDGE  — JOURNEY  ON 
HORSEBACK    THROUGH    VERMONT,    CANADA,    AND    NEW    HAMPSHIRE. 

1828.     iET.  34. 

In  the  last  week  of  the  month  of  May.  1828,  he  had 
been,  as  usual,  much  interested  in  the  various  Anniver- 
sary meetings,  to  which  it  is  devoted.  On  the  last  day 
of  it,  Saturday,  May  31st,  he  left  home  in  order  to  ful- 
fil an  engagement  to  preach  the  next  day  at  Northamp- 
ton. -This  journey  was  then  a  very  different  thing  from 
what  it  has  since  become.  It  was  performed  wholly  in 
the  old-fashioned  four-horse  stage-coaches,  which  left 
the  city  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  did  not 
reach  their  destination  till  late  in  the  evening.  It  was 
a  hard  and  wearisome  day's  ride,  even  for  a  strong 
man.  The  day  on  which  my  brother  went  proved 
rainy  and  cold.  He  was  exposed,  and  became  wet, 
and  on  his  arrival  found  himself  already  quite  ill  from 
fatigue  and  exposure.  He  passed  a  very  uncomfortable 
night,  suffered  much  from  oppression  at  the  chest  and 
in  breathing,  and  had  a  good  deal  of  cough.  Notwith- 
standing the  continuance  of  these  symptoms,  however, 
he  went  into  the  pulpit  and  preached  all  day.  In  the 
evening  he  was  no  better :  he  passed  another  bad  night, 
20* 


234  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

and  in  the  morning  was  obviously  very  sick.  Still  he 
could  not  be  persuaded,  that  he  was  so  ill  as  to  make  it 
necessary  that  he  should  be  confined  at  such  a  distance 
from  home ;  and  accordingly,  after  taking  some  medi- 
cine on  Monday  morning,  without  relief,  he  resolved  to 
make  an  effort  to  reach  home,  and  set  out  in  the  after- 
noon with  this  view. 

He  happened,  most  fortunately,  to  be  accompanied 
by  his  friend,  the  late  Mr.  George  Bond,  who  was  on 
his  return  to  Boston.  They  proceeded  as  far  as  the 
manufacturing  village  in  the  town  of  Ware,  about 
twenty-five  miles  from  Northampton,  where  they  stop- 
ped for  the  night,  intending  to  proceed  in  the  morning. 
This,  however,  proved  utterly  impracticable.  His 
powers  of  endurance  had  been  taxed  to  their  utmost, 
and  he  went  to  bed  completely  exhausted,  and  with 
every  indication  of  an  approaching  fever.  It  was  found, 
on  Tuesday  morning,  that  his  disease  was  too  firmly 
fixed  to  be  kept  at  bay.  He  was  compelled,  though 
reluctantly,  to  yield  to  this  conviction,  and  consented  at 
length  to  have  medical  advice.  The  physician  of  the 
place,  Dr.  Goodrich,  was  called,  who  found  him  labor- 
ing under  severe  inflammation  of  the  lungs.  He  was 
bled,  and  underwent  other  active  treatment,  which, 
with  the  rapid  increase  and  severity  of  his  disease, 
soon  reduced  him  to  a  state  of  extreme  prostration. 

Mr.  Bond  left  him  on  Tuesday  morning,  and  in  the 
evening  brought  the  intelligence  of  his  attack  to  his 
family  in  Boston.  Starting  in  the  next  morning's 
coach,  one  of  his  friends  reached  him  by  Wednesday 
evening.  The  violence  of  his  disease  had  not  abated, 
but  neither  had  it  increased ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  his 
condition  promised  a  favorable  issue.     He  was  as  com- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  235 

fortably  situated  as  it  is  possible  for  a  sick  man  to  be 
among  strangers.  He  had  large  and  airy  apartments 
in  an  excellent  hotel.  Great  interest  was  manifested  in 
his  case  by  the  neighborhood,  and  offers  of  assistance 
in  nursing  and  watching  were  made  from  many  quar- 
ters. He  had,  indeed,  all  the  alleviations  of  which  such 
a  sickness,  under  such  circumstances,  is  capable ;  and, 
in  addition  to  the  attendance  of  his  regular  physician, 
had  the  advantage  of  the  visits  of  his  friend  and  class- 
mate, Dr.  Homans,  then  a  practitioner  in  the  neighbor- 
ing town  of  Brookfield. 

His  case  continued  without  any  material  improve- 
ment for  about  ten  days.  During  this  period,  he 
suffered  chiefly  from  fever,  restlessness,  and  a  very 
hard  and  harassing  cough.  He  had  the  bloody  expec- 
toration usual  in  his  disease,  but  in  addition  to  it,  on 
the  fifth  or  sixth  day,  a  pretty  copious  hemorrhage  from 
the  lungs,  more  so  than  is  usual  in  similar  cases.  This, 
however,  did  not  continue,  and  did  not  recur.  The 
reduction  of  strength  was  much  greater  than  is  common 
in  such  attacks  in  persons  of  ordinary  health,  and  he 
was  exceedingly  emaciated.  Indeed,  the  entire  and 
long-continued  prostration  resulting  from  this  illness, 
which  was  certainly  not  one  of  extraordinary  violence 
or  duration,  can  only  be  attributed  to  that  gradual  ex- 
haustion of  the  powers  of  his  system,  which  had  been 
produced  by  his  unsparing  application  to  his  various 
labors,  and  which  had  rendered  him  totally  unable  to 
cope  with  a  disease  of  even  common  severity. 

In  the  course  of  a  fortnight  from  his  attack,  his  wife, 
who  had  been  detained  at  home  by  the  state  of  her 
own  health,  was  able  to  join  him;  and  he  began 
gradually  to  improve,  though  his  cough  still  continued 


236  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

to  harass  him.  He  was  placed  in  a  carriage  and 
taken  abroad,  though  still  in  a  state  of  extreme  tenuity 
and  feebleness.  As  it  was  very  clear  that  it  would  be 
a  long  time  before  he  would  be  able  to  resume  his  du- 
ties, or  even  bear  the  fatigue  of  seeing  his  friends,  it 
was  judged  inexpedient  for  him  to  return  home  :  and 
lodgings  were  procured  for  him  at  Worcester,  whither 
he  removed,  as  soon  as  he  was  able,  by  easy  stages,  and 
there  fixed  his  residence,  with  the  intention  of  remain- 
ing through  the  summer. 

In  the  mean  time  he  had  received  the  most  gratifying 
assurances  of  the  affection  of  his  people,  and  of  their 
lively  interest  in  his  welfare.  These  were  exhibited 
not  only  by  the  deep  anxiety  manifested  during  his  ill- 
ness, increased  as  it  was  by  the  circumstances  under 
which  it  occurred,  but  by  the  kind  and  prompt  provi- 
sion which  was  immediately  made  for  the  supply  of 
his  pulpit,  so  as  to  relieve  his  mind  at  once  and  entirely 
from  all  uneasiness  on  that  account.  Indeed,  this  event 
in  his  life,  accompanied,  as  it  seemed  to  be  at  first,  by 
so  much  to  render  it  one  of  peculiar  trial  and  suffering, 
served  to  bring  out  expressions  and  testimonials  of  re- 
gard and  sympathy  for  him,  both  at  home  and  abroad, 
in  quarters  where  he  had  no  particular  reason  to  look 
for  it,  to  an  extent  for  which  he  was  by  no  means 
prepared,  and  in  a  manner  to  affect  him  deeply. 

He  remained  in  Worcester  for  about  six  weeks,  his 
strength  gradually  returning,  and  his  pulmonary  symp- 
toms subsiding.  He  was  not  able,  however,  to  use  his 
pen  till  the  middle  of  the  month  of  July.  Extracts 
from  letters  subsequently  written,  will  exhibit  in  the 
best  manner  the  progress  of  his  recovery,  and  the  state, 
during  it,  both  of  his  body  and  mind.     The  following. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  237 

addressed  to  a  young  friend  engaged  in  the  study  of 
divinity,  who  had  written  to  him  on  the  subject  of  a 
visit  to  Germany,  was  one  of  the  first  which  he  at- 
tempted. 

to  mr.  william  barry,  jr. 

"  Worcester,  July  12,  1828. 

"It  is  such  an  effort  to  me  to  use  the  pen,  that  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  reply  to  your  interesting  letter  very  briefly.  This  I 
the  less  regret,  as  you  appear,  not  only  to  be  decided  as  to  the 
course  of  expediency  and  duty,  but  also  to  have  reflected  so 
maturely  and  seriously  on  the  only  doubtful  part  of  the  ques- 
tion, as  to  render  any  warning  on  the  subject  unnecessary.  I 
need,  therefore,  only  say,  that  I  view  the  advantages  to  be 
derived  from  a  visit  to  Germany  as  so  great  and  decided,  as  to 
make  it  a  matter  of  congratulation  that  you  are  able  to  under- 
take it ;  not  doubting  that  you  will  avail  yourself  of  them  to 
the  utmost. 

"  As  to  the  perils,  your  being  perfectly  aware  of  them  arms 
you  against  them ;  and  I  should  never  fear  to  trust  a  man  of 
sober  and  habitual  religious  principle  and  devout  affections  to 
a  contest  with  mysticism  and  skepticism.  My  best  wishes  for 
your  health  and  improvement  go  with  you.  May  a  good 
Providence  keep  you  from  all  evil  to  body  and  to  soul ;  and 
may  you  come  back  to  us,  thoroughly  furnished  for  every  good 
work,  and  zealous  to  devote  your  acquired  gifts  to  the  service 
of  the  churches,  and  the  cause  of  truth  and  righteousness.  Do 
not  fail  to  remember,  that  I  desire  to  be  remembered  with 
your  correspondents,  and  to  hear  from  you  from  time  to 
time." 

to  mrs.  william  ware. 

"  Worcester,  July  13,  1828. 
"  I  know  that  you  will  be  anxious  for  the  earliest  intelli- 
gence, and  therefore  I  write  to  ydu  immediately,  that  Mary  is 


238  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

safely  the  mother  of  a  fine  boy.  She  is  apparently  doing  very 
well.  This  is  another  in  the  train  of  our  blessings,  which 
have  been  so  singularly  dispensed,  that  we  almost  feared  that 
there  must  be  here  an  interruption.  That  very  event  of  my 
being  taken  ill  away  from  home,  which  seemed  so  untoward, 
has  proved  to  be  the  most  kind  appointment ;  first  to  myself, 
for  I  have  doubtless  recovered  much  faster  than  I  could  have 
done  in  Boston  ;  and  then  to  Mary,  who  was  thought  to  run 
some  risk  in  coming  to  me,  but  has  been  gaining  strength, 
health,  and  flesh,  daily,  and  is  now  in  a  situation  quite  as 
propitious,  to  say  the  least,  as  if  she  were  amongst  the  crowd 
of  friends  in  Boston.  She  has  been  my  driver,  too,  till  now  I 
am  able  to  drive  myself,  and  can  do  without  her  aid. 

"  When  our  hearts  are  softened  by  sickness,  and  quickened 
by  deliverance,  how  visible  is  the  hand  of  Providence.  In 
few  circumstances  of  my  life  have  I  traced  it  with  so  much 
admiration,  as  during  the  last  six  weeks.  Who  would  have 
thought,  that  I  should  have  had  the  comfort  of  being  attended, 
first  by  two  brothers,  and  then  by  my  wife ;  when  I  had  no 
reason  to  expect  either,  least  of  all,  the  last  ?  And,  if  I  were  to 
tell  you  how  I  felt,  and  still  feel,  about  the  truly  fraternal  vis- 
its of  John  and  William,  you  would  think  me  foolish.  But  so 
it  is.  I  find  that  severe  and  solitary  sickness  opens  floods  of 
feeling;  and  makes  even  the  little,  every-day  kindnesses  of 
those  around  appear  great  and  important.  It  will  teach  me  to 
value  more,  and  more  willingly  make,  my  visits  to  the  sick  ; 
for,  if  apparently  worthless  in  my  own  eyes,  I  shall  know  that 
they  are  inestimable  in  the  view  of  the  patients. 

"  I  still  gain  daily,  and  begin  to  believe  that  I  may  hope  for 
a  thorough  restoration.  I  hope  to  take  horseback  exercise 
this  week,  and,  as  soon  as  both  Mary  and  myself  are  well 
enough,  shall  start  for  the  White  Hills.  My  earliest  prospect 
of  returning  home  and  preaching  is  October.'' 

"My  feelings. ,?    he   says,    July   14.    -'are    those   of 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  239 

health,  excepting  weakness,  which  is  great  Within  a 
week  my  voice  has  greatly  mended,  and  I  feel  hut  slight 
uneasiness  at  my  chest.  I  ventured  to  meeting  yester- 
day morning :  and,  as  I  rode  going  and  returning,  and 
did  not  stand  at  all,  1  suffered  no  fatigue.  It  was  a 
great  enjoyment."  July  25. —  "I  returned  yesterday 
from  a  little  jaunt  of  three  days  to  Andover.  Brother 
Allen  drove  me:  and,  though  it  was  much  more  than  I 
had  previously  ridden,  I  feel  much  better  for  it.  In 
reply  to  your  queries,  no  one  can  perceive  that  I  gain 
flesh,  but  everybody  remarks  on  the  improvement  of 
my  countenance.  I  have  walked  a  quarter  of  a  mile, 
and  this  is  as  much  as  I  have  yet  been  able  to  do  at 
once ;  but  I  can  do  it  several  times,  that  is,  I  have  done 
it  twice  in  a  day.  But,  having  usually  ridden  during 
all  the  cool  hours  of  the  day,  I  have  made  less  progress 
in  the  power  of  walking  than  I  might  have  done.  I 
still  keep  open  the  blister,  but  it  contracts  in  size. 
Further,  I  am  not  sure  whether  the  uneasiness  which  I 
sometimes  feel  in  my  chest  is  within,  or  belonging  to 
the  external  sore.  But  I  am  sure  that  I  bear  very  lit- 
tle use  of  my  voice,  and  have  not  gained  in  this  partic- 
ular for  a  fortnight."     "I  have  received  a  long  letter 

from ,  containing  a  solemn  and  pathetic  argument 

and  exhortation  on  the  state  of  my  case,  urging  Eng- 
land, and  a  year's  relaxation,  &c.  I  should  be  per- 
fectly ashamed  to  go  to  England." 

TO  MR.    GANNETT. 

"  The  long  letter,  which  I  proposed  writing,  was  chiefly  to 
be  a  lecture  on  health,  with  personal  application  to  the  younger 
bishop  of  Federal  Street.  But  I  will  give  you  two  sentences 
instead  of  an  epistle.     I  have  long  been  concerned  at  your 


240  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

mode  of  life,  which  appears  to  be  a  careless,  reckless  throwing 
away  of  a  chance  of  longevity ;  and,  since  I  have  been  sud- 
denly cut  off  in  the  midst  of  a  similar  career,  I  have  thought 
of  you  much,  and  been  anxious,  like  Dives,  to  send  you  a 
message,  lest  you  also  come  into  this  place  of  torment.  I  refer 
not  to  work,  but  to  imprudence  ;  for  it  is  nonsense  to  suppose 
that  either  of  us  works  too  much,  whatever  friends  may  say. 
Other  men  there  have  been  who  have  done  more.  But  we 
work  imprudently,  and  I  think  very  much  alike.  Want  of 
method,  late  and  irregular  hours,  neglect  of  regular  exercise  of 
body  to  balance  every  day  the  fatigue  of  the  mind,  and  some- 
times violent  exercise,  as  if  to  do  up  the  thing  by  the  job.  No 
constitutions  can  stand  such  a  life.  I  am  ruined  by  it,  and 
yet  I  feel  sure,  that,  by  a  right  course,  I  could  have  done 
more  in  my  profession  than  I  have  done,  and  yet  kept  my 
health.  For  me,  it  is  too  late  ;  for  you,  it  is  not.  And  I  am 
deeply  anxious  that  you  should  act  prudently  from  my  experi- 
ence, and  not  wait  for  your  own.  It  is  not  health,  only  ;  it  is 
the  power  of  usefulness  ;  and  the  sin,  which  weighs  upon  the 
mind  and  depresses  it,  takes  away  the  consolations  of  a  sick 
bed,  embittering  the  heart  with  the  thought,  that  we  are  suf- 
fering the  just  punishment  of  our  folly  and  the  neglect  of 
duty. 

"  And  there  is  no  little  sting  added  to  the  mortification,  if, 
meantime,  friends  are  attributing  the  evil  to  undue  earnestness 
in  duty.  I  would  not  have  you  feel  this  as  I  have  felt  it.  It 
is  the  only  drawback  which  I  have  had,  amidst  the  many  com- 
forts and  abundant  blessings  of  my  illness.  A  singularly  kind 
Providence,  a  multitude  of  good  friends,  and  everything  which 
earth  or  religion  could  furnish  for  consolation  and  satisfaction, 
have  made  these  few  weeks  of  trial,  weeks  of  peculiar  blessings, 
which  nothing  has  occurred  to  mar,  except  the  intrusion  of 
thoughts  of  self-reproach,  because  I  had  brought  the  evil  on  my- 
self by  negligent  imprudence,  after  previous  warning.  I  beg 
you  to  think  on  this  subject,  and  act.     You  are  endowed  with 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE,    JR.  241 

powers  of  doing  good,  which  not  many  possess,  and  which  you 
ought  not  to  trifle  with.     In  these  days  they  are  needed." 

The  following  is  an  answer  to  a  letter  from  the  same 
friend,  proposing  a  missionary  tour  into  the  interior  of 
the  State  of  New  York. 

TO    MR.    GANNETT. 

"  Worcester,  August  17,  1S28. 
"  I  received  your  letter  yesterday,  on  my  return  from  a  ride 
to  Ware,  where  I  spent  a  night,  revolving  over  in  my  mind 
the  hours  of  my  sickness.  I  drove  myself  in  a  chaise,  which 
may  show  how  far  my  strength  has  got.  As  to  your  plan,  I 
see  no  objection  to  it ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  many  things  to  rec- 
ommend it.  It  will  be  of  service  to  yourself;  and  I  think  it 
quite  time,  that  the  people  of  that  region  should  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  evincing  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  the  assertion  so 
often  made,  of  their  readiness  to  hear  Unitarianism.  I  doubt 
whether  you  could  accomplish  it  in  a  month,  though  in  that 
time  you  could  preach  once  in  the  principal  towns.  But  might 
it  not  be  more  profitable  to  stay  in  some  one  place  till,  by 
repeated  services,  something  like  a  permanent  interest  could 
be  excited,  and  the  embryo  of  a  society  possibly  be  formed  ? 
This  may  be  worth  considering.  The  present  month  is  prob- 
ably less  favorable  for  such  an  experiment  than  the  next, — 
especially  than  October  ;  though,  on  second  thought,  the  peo- 
ple in  the  large  towns  are  not  engaged  in  the  wheat  harvest, 
and  it  may  therefore  matter  little.  Mr.  Pierce  could  inform 
you.  Finally,  I  hope  you  will  do  it.  On  reaching  one  of  the 
towns,  you  could  in  some  way  appoint  one  meeting,  and  at 
that  it  were  better  to  name  a  second.  At  that  time  you  could 
determine  whether  it  were  advisable  to  do  more.  Of  course 
there  are  some  hazards  in  preaching  extemporaneously,  but 
for  such  a  purpose  I  am  persuaded  the  advantages  are  such 
as  to  put  all  risk  out  of  the  question.  It  is  a  great  matter  to 
21 


242  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

be  able  to  change  the  subject  and  mode  of  treatment,  and  adapt 
and  modify,  according  as  experience  or  occasion  shall  sug- 
gest. Your  facility  is  such,  that  you  would  apprehend  noth- 
ing, and  would  only  have  to  guard  against  your  tendency  to 
too  great  impetuosity,  which  sometimes  might  hurry  you  into 
indistinctness  both  of  language  and  utterance.  If  you  will 
bear  in  mind  this  single  caution,  you  may  be  assured,  I  think, 
that  you  will  do  better  to  speak  extempore,  than  to  take  any  of 
your  written  sermons. 

"  I  see  no  reason  why  the  Executive  Committee  should  not 
make  an  appropriation  toward  this  object.  It  would  certainly 
greatly  favor  our  operations,  to  make  a  little  excitement  all 
along  that  road. 

11  You  are  right  in  your  allusion  to  the  proofs  of  Divine 
Goodness  which  have  attended  me.  I  have  felt  as  if  they 
were  singular,  and  have  looked  at  them  in  the  train  and  devel- 
opment of  events,  very  much  as  Jacob  must  have  done,  when 
he  saw  the  end  of  his  trials.  Some  of  the  most  apparently 
adverse  circumstances  have  ripened  into  great  blessings ;  and 
I  pray  that  I  may  come  back  to  my  place  better  fitted,  as  I  may 
be  and  ought  to  be,  for  some  of  its  duties.  I  feel  now  as  if  I 
could  go  to  sick  chambers  with  some  confidence  that  I  can 
give  comfort  and  do  good,  which  I  never  have  felt  yet." 

During  this  summer  a  plan  for  establishing  a  profes- 
sorship of  Pulpit  Eloquence  and  the  Pastoral  Care,  in 
the  Divinity  School  at  Cambridge,  was  carried  into 
effect.  The  want  of  a' teacher  in  this  department  had 
been  long  felt,  but  I  am  not  aware  that  any  serious 
movement  had  been  previously  made  for  supplying  it. 
The  general  feeling  of  the  friends  of  theological  educa- 
tion had  been  directed  to  Mr.  Ware,  as  a  suitable  person 
to  fill  this  place  whenever  it  should  be  created,  both  on 
account  of  his  hearty  devotion  to  the  duties  of  the  pas- 
toral office  in  his  own  person,  and  his  well-known  and 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  243 

deep  interest  in  the  education  of  young  men  for  the 
ministry.  His  present  sickness  and  its  probable  contin- 
ued influence  on  his  health,  as  well  as  the  extent  to 
which  this  had  been  previously  impaired,  rendered  it 
desirable  that  he  should  be  relieved  from  a  situation  in 
which  he  was  constantly  under  temptation  to  continue 
a  course  of  life  which  had  already  so  much  exhausted 
the  powers  of  his  constitution.  The  influence  of  this 
consideration  on  the  minds  of  many  of  his  friends  doubt- 
less hastened  to  maturity  the  plan  for  the  establishment 
of  a  professorship  at  this  time;  and  they  took  a  strong 
interest  in  it  from  the  belief,  that  it  would  be  the  means 
of  removing  him  to  a  sphere  of  action,  in  which,  while 
his  duties  would  be  less  arduous,  his  usefulness  would 
be  at  least  not  diminished. 

Of  this  project  he  received  early  intimation,  though 
no  direct  or  official  communication.  It  became  neces- 
sarily, therefore,  a  subject  of  serious  consideration  with 
him ;  and  he  sought,  in  a  confidential  manner,  the  coun- 
sels and  opinions  of  some  of  his  friends,  as  to  the  course 
which  it  would  be  best  for  him  to  pursue,  in  case  the 
proposal  were  directly  made.  He  thus  writes  on  this 
subject. 

TO    HIS    BROTHER    JOHN. 

"  Worcester,  August  14,  182S. 
"  I  got  your  letter  to-night.  I  am  surprised  that  the  propo- 
sition is  so  old  to  you,  for  I  had  no  idea  that  it  had  been  here- 
tofore hinted.  The  suggestion  is  almost  new  to  me,  except  as 
I  have  sometimes  fancied,  in  looking  at  the  state  and  pros- 
pects of  religion,  that  I  had  some  notions  which  would  do 
good  at  Cambridge.  I  think  as#  you  do,  of  the  essential 
importance  of  that  place.  I  have  long  seen  what  ought  to  be 
done;   and,  if  it  is  said  by  those  whose  place  it  is  to  judge, 


244  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

that  I  am  the  person  to  undertake  it,  I  should  feel  that  I  ought 
not  to  decline  the  task.  A  great  undertaking  it  would  be,  and 
I  could  not  engage  in  it  without  anxiety  and  fear.  But  I  must 
say,  that  the  duties  would  be  more  to  my  taste  than  any  that 
I  can  think  of;  and,  feeling  the  immense  consequence  of 
them,  and  having  seen,  by  experience,  what  is  needed,  I 
should  carry  to  the  work  an  engaged  mind  and  an  earnest 
desire  to  effect  something ;  and  I  have  always  found  this  one 
of  the  most  essential  qualifications.  I  have  heard  of  it  only 
through  Mr.  Higginson,  who  communicated  the  doings  of  the 
Directors  and  their  conference  with  the  Corporation,  and  that 
their  determination  is  to  make  the  appointment  this  fall,  if 
they  can  get  the  funds.  Means  are  to  be  taken  for  this  end 
at  once,  and  he  says  they  are  confident  of  success.  In  truth, 
the  Institution  cannot  go  on  till  it  has  a  reinforcement.  But 
my  feelings  respecting  a  parish,  which  has  come  round  me  as 
ours  has,  and  has  always  treated  me  with  such  exemplary 
candor  and  kindness,  will  render  the  struggle  not  an  easy  one. 
11  Of  course  nothing  will  be  said  of  it  till  the  appointment  is 
made.  I  am  very  glad  to  have  your  so  full  expression  on  the 
subject;— it  makes  me  more  sure  that  I  am  not  wrong." 

Towards  the  end  of  August,  he  had  so  far  recovered 
his  strength  as  to  render  it  safe  for  him  to  undertake  a 
journey  alone  on  horseback,  a  remedy  which  he  had 
before  found  so  beneficial. 

The  following  notices  of  the  route,  incidents,  and 
other  circumstances  connected  with  this  journey,  are 
selected  from  letters,  chiefly  to  his  wife,  written  in  the 
course  of  it. 

11  Templeton,  Monday,  August  25,  1S2S.— Dined  in  com- 
pany with  two ministers,  one  of  whom  complained  that 

brandy  was  put  on  the  table,  and  went  on  to  gormandize  meat, 
pudding,  and  pie,  three  cups  of  strong  coffee,  and  two  tumblers 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  245 

of  bottled  cider.  The  other  ate,  as  I  did,  of  but  one  dish.  The 
day  was  excessively  hot,  but  a  good  breeze  till  about  five, 
P.  M.,  when  the  afternoon  became  still,  close,  and  uncomfort- 
able. I  reached  Winchendon,  seven  miles,  about  seven  o'clock  ; 
miserable  inn  ; — milk  set  on  the  table  in  an  old  broken  white 
earthen  washbowl,  and  a  tea-cup  to  dip  it  out ;  — crackers, 
baked  at  least  two  years  ago.  I  think  my  plan  of  two  meals 
a  day  will  answer  very  well.  As  yet,  I  feel  finely.  I  shall 
seek  to  ride,  as  I  did  to-day,  from  six  to  nine  or  ten,  A.  M., 
dine  at  twelve,  and  take  milk  in  the  evening.  Being  nowhere 
at  the  breakfast  hour,  nobody  is  distressed  at  my  going  with- 
out a  meal,  and  I  ride  far  more  comfortably. 

11  Thursday. — Rode  thirteen  miles  to  Walpole,  and  from 
here  shall  despatch  this  letter.  My  thoughts  go  to  you,  and 
fancy  that  you  may  be  quite  sick,  and  half  suffocated  in  your 
hot  room,  while  I  am  here  enjoying  myself  in  the  wide  and 
free  world.  But  I  will  not  doubt  that  you  are  doing  well. 
What  perverse  creatures  we  should  be,  if,  after  all  the  past, 
we  could  not  take  quietly  and  with  confidence,  any  course  of 
events 

"  Woodstock,  Vt.,  Sat.  Eve.,  Aug.  30. — This  hot  weather 
has  been  really  terrible.  For  myself  I  have  not  greatly  suf- 
fered from  the  heat,  except  through  the  sufferings  of  my  horse, 
who  has  so  wilted  under  it  as  to  retard  me  in  my  wTay.  I  was 
yesterday  weighed,  and  have  gained  two  pounds  since  I  was 
at  Ware,  five  weeks  ago.  This  is  a  very  pleasant,  well-built 
village,  about  as  large  as  Worcester,  lying  directly  in  the  midst 
of  very  high  hills,  which  crowd  upon  it  on  every  side.  It  is 
very  striking,  after  riding  among  the  mountains  for  eight 
miles,  with  here  and  there  a  little,  one-story  house  perched  on 
the  hill-side,  to  enter  suddenly  on  a  town  like  this,  crowded 
with  people  and  bustling  with  business.  You  wonder  where 
they  can  have  come  from.  Saturday  is  the  day  when  the 
neighboring  farmers  throng  in  to  buy  and  sell  ;  when  I  arrived, 
the  streets  were  literally  full  of  men  and  wagons  and  horses, 
21* 


246  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

as  thick  as  I  ever  saw  them  on  the  Common  at  Commence- 
ment.* The  country  in  this  State  strikes  one  finely ; — noble 
hills  covered  with  cattle  and  orchards,  here  and  there  a  beau- 
tiful valley,  richly  cultivated,  and  everywhere  little  mountain 
streams  with  their  mills.  I  find,  too,  that  Vermont  gains  in 
population  faster  than  Massachusetts. 

"  Sunday  Eve. — One  never  knows  who  may  be  near  him. 
Here  I  was  glorying  in  my  incognito,  and  fancying  I  might 
do  any  mischief  and  no  matter,  when,  lo !  a  gentleman  this 
morning  calls  me  by  name,  and  I  find  it  to  be  Mr.  Ward,  of 
Worcester,  just  returning  from  Quebec,  and  he  introduces  me 
to  Mr.  Atkinson,  who  knows  me  well  by  sight.  Then,  on 
returning  from  church,  the  first  sight  is  Miss  Storrow  entering 
the  tavern  with  other  ladies,  and  she  leads  me  up  stairs  to  her 
uncle's  apartment,  and  introduces  me  to  a  host,  and  so  I  am 

at  home  at  once I  have  heard  the  Calvinist 

and  '  Christian '  ministers  to-day.  Both  pretty  well ;  the  latter 
quite  ingenious  in  a  parallel  between  Joseph  in  Egypt  and 
Jesus  Christ. 

"  Monday,  Sept.  1. — Went  fourteen  miles  over  a  most  wild 
road,  through  a  region  resembling  the  Catskills,  the  road  often- 
times formed  on  the  side  of  just  such  precipices  as  we  saw  at 
the  Catskill  water-falls.  Very  few  houses  ;  here  and  there  a 
little  interval  between  the  mountains  capable  of  cultivation.  I 
am  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  highest  mountains.  I 
stopped  at  noon  at  the  only  tavern,  and  found  a  very  pretty 
family  ; — two  rather  handsome  daughters,  who  wait  on  trav- 
ellers,— very  modest,  proper,  and  well-behaved.  One  might 
hatch  up  quite  a  romance  here.  I  had  intended  going  no  fur- 
ther than  this,  as  there  is  no  decent  stopping-place  under  four- 
teen miles  ;  but,  as  the  day  was  cloudy  and  cool,  and  I  in  a 
hurry  for  my  letters,  I  started  and  went  right  up  hill  for  seven 

*He  refers  to  the  days  of  his  boyhood,  when  the  spectacle  exhibited  by  the 
town  of  Cambrid^o  on  the  day  of  this  anniversary  was  very  different  from  that 
which  is  now  witnessed. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JK.  247 

miles.  This  is  crossing  the  Green  Mountains  ;  and,  if  you 
can  fancy  a  road  just  twice  as  bad  as  that  which  we  mistook  in 
going  to  Trenton,  you  will  have  an  image  of  what  I  passed.  A 
shower  overtook  me  at  nine  miles,  and  I  stopped  at  a  poor  tav- 
ern for  the  night,  very  near  Killington  Peak,  which  used  to  be 
thought  the  highest  of  these  mountains,  but  has  been  lately 
ascertained  to  be,  I  think,  the  third  in  altitude.  It  stands  very 
majestically  before  this  house,  and  is  this  afternoon  wrapt  in 
very  thick  and  dignified  clouds.  The  name  of  this  place  is 
Mendon  ; — only  sixty  families  in  the  town,  and  only  one  house 
in  sight  of  this.  The  landlady  is  a  genuine  scold,  the  first  I 
have  heard  for  a  long  time ;  and  her  poor  husband  looks  so 
sad  and  drooping,  and  her  four  children  are  so  cross  and  impu- 
dent  

"Thursday  Eve.,  Sept.  4.  — Conceive  of  my  fidgets,  impa- 
tient as  I  am  to  be  at  Burlington  and  hear  from  you,  to  be 
obliged  to  stay  at  Brandon  all  day  yesterday,  and  only  make 
out  to-day  to  dodge  between  the  drops  seven  miles  to  Salisbury. 
The  land  is  all  afloat.', 

The  time  which  he  was  thus  obliged  to  consume  on 
the  road,  was  not  wholly  lost.  His  mind  and  pen,  as 
we  shall  see  hereafter,  were  now  occupied  during  his 
moments  of  leisure  in  the  preparation  of  a  work  which 
he  had  in  contemplation;  and  the  following  poetical 
epistle  to  his  wife,  written  at  the  same  time,  shows  by 
what  kind  of  thoughts  his  idle  hours  were  employed. 


"  Dear  Mary,  'tis  the  fourteenth  day 
Since  I  was  parted  from  your  side  ; 
And  still  upon  my  lengthening  way 

In  solitude  I  ride  ; 
But  not  a  word  has  come  to  tell 
If  those  I  left  at  home  are  well. 


248  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

"  I  am  not  of  an  anxious  mind, 

Nor  prone  to  cherish  useless  fear  ; 
Yet  oft  methinks  the  very  wind 

Is  whispering  in  my  ear, 
That  many  an  evil  may  take  place 
Within  a  fortnight's  narrow  space. 

"  'T  is  true  indeed  ;  disease  and  pain 

May  all  this  while  have  been  your  lot ; 
And,  when  I  reach  my  home  again, 
Death  may  have  marked  the  spot. 
I  need  but  dwell  on  thoughts  like  these, 
To  be  as  wretched  as  I  please. 

"  But  no,  —  a  happier  thought  is  mine  ; 

The  absent,  like  the  present  scene, 
Is  guided  by  a  Friend  Divine, 

Who  bids  us  wait  serene 
The  issues  of  that  gracious  will, 
Which  mingles  good  with  every  ill. 

"  And  who  should  feel  this  tranquil  trust 

In  that  Benignant  One  above, — 

Who  ne'er  forgets  that  we  are  dust, 

And  rules  with  pitying  love, — 
Like  us,  who  both  have  just  been  led 
Back  from  the  confines  of  the  dead ! 

11  Like  us.  who,  ?mid  the  various  hours 
That  mark  life's  changeful  wilderness, 
Have  always  found  its  suns  and  showers 

Alike  designed  to  bless? 
Led  on  and  taught  as  we  have  been, 
Distrust  would  be  indeed  a  sin. 

"  Darkness,  rt  is  true,  and  death  must  come  : 
But  they  should  bring  us  no  dismay  ; 
They  are  but  guides  to  lead  us  home, 

And  then  to  pass  away. 
Oh,  who  will  keep  a  troubled  mind, 
That  knows  this  glory  is  designed  ? 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.  JK.  249 

"  Then,  dearest,  present  or  apart, 
An  equal  calmness  let  us  wear ; 
Let  steadfast  Faith  control  the  heart, 

And  still  its  throbs  of  care. 
We  may  not  lean  on  things  of  dust ; 
But  Heaven  is  worthy  all  our  trust. 
11  Salisbury  and  Ycrgennes,  September  4th  and  5th." 

"  Burlington,  Sept.  6. — I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  felt  on  get- 
ting your  letters  this  afternoon,  and  learning  how  you  had 
been  all  this  time.  You  are  a  good  creature  to  write  so  fully, 
and  I  am  as  happy  as  a  prince.  I  never  will  be  a  fortnight 
again  without  hearing.     I  have  tried  it  this  time,  and  it  is 

enough The  rains  have  been  tremendous, — 

torn  away  bridges  and  made  gullies,  so  that  many  places  are 
dangerous.  You  see  on  the  other  page  how  I  employed  my- 
self yesterday  and  to-day.  There  is  no  great  poetry  in  the 
thing,  but  a  great  deal  of  truth;  and,  as  it  was  a  pleasant 
exercise  to  me  to  fashion  it,  I  hope  you  will  not  find  the  read- 
ing of  it  otherwise.    It  is  as  sincere  as  if  it  were  prose 

I  expect  to  spend  next  Sunday  (14th)  in  Montreal;  from 
Montreal  to  Quebec  in  the  boat,  and  ride  back ;  then  take  the 
boats  through  Lake  Champlain,  and  again  at  Albany,  and  so 
go  down  to  New  York,  whence  by  land  home.  This  seems 
to  be  the  most  feasible  plan,  and  may  bring  me  home  by  the 
first  of  October,  when  I  trust  I  may  find  you  in  our  palace  in 
Sheafe  Street,  and  a  happy  day  it  will  be.  I  have  no  doubt 
from  appearances,  that  I  may  preach  then  a  little,  and,  by 
making  head-quarters  there,  and  driving  round  the  country 
week  days,  get  through  the  fall  very  well.  In  which  said 
drivings  I  shall  have  sometimes  your  company,  which  I  have 
often  sighed  for,  and  which  would  have  made  many  of  the 
sights  and  scenes  I  have  been  passing  far  more  interesting. 
But  all  in  good  time.  To-day  I  shall  be  much  by  myself,  and 
hope  to  enjoy  it.     It  is  singular,  that  each  of  these  three  Sun- 


250  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.     JR. 

days  there  should  be  very  particular  causes  making  it  uncom- 
monly desirable  I  should  preach,  especially  at  Princeton  and 
here.  At  Woodstock  the  '  Christians '  would  have  been  glad 
to  have  me,  and  it  was  an  opportunity  to  be  much  prized.  I 
really  feel  this  deprivation  not  a  little.  But  yours  is  still 
greater  in  not  being  able  to  attend  worship  at  all.  May  it 
be  more  than  made  up  to  you  in  private  and  in  other  blessings. 

"  Monday  Evening.  —  S wanton,  eight  miles.  This  is  the 
last  town  in  the  United  States.  The  Canada  line  is  about 
seven  miles  from  this.  A  fine  place  for  smugglers.  Many 
fine  mills  and  large  water  works  for  cutting  and  sawing  marble. 
Training-day ;  a  militia  company  abroad  in  all  its  glory, — 
some  with  bayonets,  some  without, — some  shouldering  ram- 
rods instead  of  muskets, — one  with  a  stick  of  wood,  of  the  sort 
called  cat-stick, — and  one  marching  majestically,  with  both 
hands  in  his  breeches-pockets, — their  whole  deportment  corre- 
sponding. It  was  all  of  a  piece  with  the  court  which  I  saw 
this  morning,  where  the  lawTyers  were  eating  apples,  and 
actually  more  than  one  continued  eating  while  addressing  the 
judges.  Weather  a  little  more  moderate  to-night.  Only 
twenty  miles  to-day,  when,  if  my  horse  had  held  out,  I  might 
have  gone  forty; — twenty  is  not  enough,  especially  as  I  can 
much  of  the  time  only  go  on  a  walk  or  a  jog  but  little  faster. 
I  need  more  exercise ;  I  am  sure,  therefore,  that  I  shall  quit 
the  horse.  Miserable  accommodations  here.  I  am  in  a  room 
twelve  feet  square,  with  a  bed,  a  chair,  and  a  wash-stand  ; — I 
am  writing  on  the  wash-stand.  Having  set  the  basin  on  the 
floor,  I  have  taken  out  the  drawer  and  laid  it  bottom  up  on  the 
top,  and  lo  !  an  elegant  writing-desk.  But  I  am  as  well  and 
as  happy,  as  if  I  were  master  of  the  palace  of  Versailles,  and 
possessed  the  power  and  luxury  of  its  owner.  I  hope  you  are 
so  too  ; — would  that  I  possessed  the  looking-glass  of  the  fairy 
tale,  by  a  peep  into  which  I  might  see  you  as  you  are. 

"  St.  John's,  Wednesday  Evening.  —  Leaving  Swanton  this 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 


261 


fine,  beautiful,  and  cool  day,  I  have  urged  my  Rosinante  vehe- 
mently till  he  has  fairly  brought  me  thirty-five  miles,  by  which 
I  gain  more  than  a  day.  I  am  not  sensibly  tired;  — the  road 
has  been  level  all  the  way.  After  about  six  miles  I  came  to  a 
spot  where  the  lake  had  overflowed  the  road  for  nearly  half 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  I  was  obliged  to  ride  through  the 
waves  two  and  three  feet  deep.  Then  a  small  river,  from 
which  the  bridge  had  been  washed  away,  over  which  I  was 
ferried  by  a  girl  of  blooming  sixteen,  without  stockings, — who 
made  a  very  interesting  Charon,  and  wet  her  beautiful  ankles 
in  the  cause.  Soon  after  this,  I  crossed  the  Canada  line,  and 
fairly  entered  his  Majesty's  dominions.  The  frontiers  on 
both  sides  are  miserable  ;— thinly  peopled  by  poor  settlers  in 
shabby  log-houses.  The  first  village  was  at  Misisque  Bay  ; 
after  leaving  which,  the  road  winds  round  the  head  of  the 
lake  within  twenty  feet  of  the  water  for  nearly  two  miles,— a 
deep  sand  mixed  up  in  a  rough  style  with  stumps  and  boards, 
so  as  to  make  it  almost  impassable.  The  boards  are  brought 
into  the  lake  from  the  various  streams  on  which  saw-mills  are 
situated,  and  then  are  washed  on  the  shore  at  this  northern 
extremity.  The  recent  freshet  has  deposited  hundreds  of  cart- 
loads of  timber,  and  boards,  and  sawdust.  The  road  is  there- 
fore an  unamalgamated  mixture  of  those  things.  The  next 
village  is  Henry ville,  twelve  miles  from  St.  John's  ;  and  here 
begins  a  wide  road,  straight  as  an  arrow  and  level  as  a  canal. 
You  might  see  the  whole  distance,  nay,  to  the  north  pole  if  it 
were  not  for  the  sphericity  of  the  earth.  I  never  saw  any- 
thing like  it.  It  tires  one  to  look  at  it.  It  is  now,  after  the 
rains,  bad,  but  it  is  usually  excellent,  as  I  could  see  from  cer- 
tain passages.  It  is  lined  along  the  whole  distance  by  rows  of 
log-houses,  or  rather  timber-houses,  all  of  one  size  and  shape, 
about  twenty  or  thirty  feet  square,  with  one  door  and  three 
windows  ;  some  very  neatly  whitewashed.  The  people  seem 
poor  and  dirty.     I  could  see  into  their  houses  as  I  passed  ;  there 


252  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

is  but  one  room,  and  this  often  has  two  beds  in  it ;  cooking 
seems  to  be  done  out  of  doors,  and  there  the  oven  is  some- 
times built  over  the  pigsty.  The  land  is  hardly  cultivated  at 
all.  I  find  that  the  road  runs  along  the  River  Richelieu,  per- 
haps a  mile  from  the  bank,  but  the  river  is  nowhere  visible. 
I  crossed  it  at  this  city  over  a  fine  wooden  bridge  nearly  as  long 
as  West-Boston  bridge.    This  is  a  shabby  town,  not  very  large. 

M  Montreal,  Thursday,  11th. — I  left  St.  John's  at  about  nine 
o'clock  for  La  Prairie,  eighteen  miles,  a  small  town  on  the  St. 
Lawrence,  which  derives  its  name  from  its  situation  and  the 
neighborhood. 

"  One  vast  plain  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see,  not  fertile  or  much 
cultivated.  Everything  like  a  foreign  land,— strange  manners, 
dress,  and  language.  Every  boy  I  have  seen  had  on  John's 
old,  torn,  straw  hat,  and  almost  every  woman  too.  At  half 
past  one  took  steam-boat  for  this  city,  and  came  over  in  an 
hour,  nine  miles, — not  right  across,  but  down  stream.  I  was 
disappointed  at  finding  nothing  at  the  post-office, — yet  perhaps 
ought  not  to  be.  The  first  view  of  the  city  is  better  than  I 
expected; — streets  narrow,  but  houses  of  substantial  bluish 
stone,  well  built.  The  mountain  gives  the  town  a  picturesque 
air,  as  it  often  may  be  caught  in  glimpses  as  you  pass  the 
streets.  The  handsomest  thing  I  have  seen  was  a  Highland 
soldier,  keeping  guard  at  the  Government  House.  I  had  no 
conception  of  so  rich  a  dress  upon  the  breechless  fellows.  The 
cathedral  is  truly  grand,— nearly  enough  finished  on  the 
Gothic  model  to  give  you  a  good  idea  of  the  wThole.  I  have 
been  into  one  of  the  churches,  but  not  to  examine  the  pictures. 
It  is  pleasant  to  me,  I  confess,  to  see  the  church  standing  open, 
and  people  passing  in  and  out  to  their  devotions,  and  men, 
women,  and  priests  all  engaged  there.  There  were  not  a  few  ; 
six  priests  variously  employed,  the  oldest  nearly  eighty,  and 
the  youngest  a  handsome,  happy-looking  youngster  of  nine- 
teen or  twenty.     The  various  styles  of  crossing  with  the  holy 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  253 

water  amused  me.  I  went  and  looked  into  the  font ;  it  ought 
to  have  a  great  deal  of  spiritual  holiness,  for  it  has  a  vast  deal 
of  carnal  dirtiness.  The  buildings  of  various  sorts  belonging 
to  the  church  are  of  immense  extent,  and  give  an  idea  of  its 
wealth  and  influence,  which  I  was  not  quite  prepared  for. 
One  of  the  first  things  that  strikes  your  eye  here  is  the  number 
of  men  dressed  in  religious  habits,  whom  you  meet  in  the 
street,  and  the  number  in  military  apparel,— the  army  and  the 
Catholic  church.  I  came  in  the  stage-coach  from  St.  John's, 
having  left  my  horse  to  be  cosseted.  I  shall  save  seven  days 
of  time  by  it  at  least,  and  probably  a  little  in  expense  too. 
This,  however,  is  not  quite  certain.  I  am  now  just  where  I 
long  to  have  you  with  me  ;  I  shall  omit  seeing  many  things  till 
you  come.  I  wrote  to  William,  and  to  the  Parish  Committee 
too,  wTithin  two  days  past.  I  am  more  truly  tired  to-day  than 
since  I  left  home,— standing,  waiting,  and  walking. 

"  Steamboat  Richelieu,  River  St.  Lawrence,  September  13. 

My   last   was   written    on   Thursday,    the 

evening  of  my  arrival  at  Montreal,  and  contained  my  first  im- 
pressions after  a  four  hours'  visit.  I  put  up  at  the  Mansion 
House,  a  fine  place,  where  were  none  but  regular  boarders,  to 
one  of  whom  I  had  a  letter,  Mr.  Handy  side,  whose  wife  is 
sister  of  Mr.  Adams  of  Burlington.  They  dine  together  in 
great  style  at  five  o'clock,  but  meet  at  no  other  time,  break- 
fasting and  teaing  as  they  please.  Yesterday  morning,  I 
arose  at  six  and  walked  abroad  to  the  city,  having  a  direction 
to  the  principal  buildings.  I  breakfasted  alone  at  half  past 
eight,  and  then  immediately  took  a  saddle-horse  and  rode 
round  the  mountain ;  not  a  very  mighty  mountain,  but  high 
enough  to  afford  a  very  extensive  view  of  a  very  flat  and  peo- 
pled country.  The  air  was  unhappily  thick.  Having  crossed 
over,  I  wTent  a  few  miles  into  the  country  and  returned  by 
another  road  around  the  southern  base,  passing  many  fine 
gentlemen's  seats  and  delightful  situations ; — vast  quantities  of 
22 


254  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR 


apples  and  crab-apples,  but  scarcely  any  other  fruit.  It  was 
half  past  twelve  when  I  returned ;  so,  having-  eaten  my  lunch, 
a  necessary  part  of  Montreal  life,  I  sallied  out  again  to  see  the 
town.  I  looked  at  the  pictures  in  the  old  cathedral,  which  do 
not  seem  very  extraordinary,  though  two  sufficiently  pleased 
me.  I  tried  hard,  but  unsuccessfully,  to  get  entrance  to  the 
English  church  and  hear  the  famous  organ,  and  passed  an 
hour  in  a  very  entertaining  way  in  court,  where  the  French 
and  English  languages  are  used  promiscuously.  And  never 
did  I  witness  a  more  disorderly  scene,  not  even  excepting  the 
shabby  court  at  Providence.  The  lawyers  talked  two  at  a  time, 
interrupted  one  another,  interrupted  the  judge,  rushed  from 
their  places,  and  acted  the  part  of  angry  men,  with  most  vehe- 
ment noise,  and  all  sorts  of  gesticulation ;  meanwhile  their 
clients  often  broke  out  aloud,  contradicting  their  counsel,  and 
the  witnesses  gave  their  testimony  in  long  orations,  emulating 
the  tones,  and  shrugs,  and  eloquence  of  the  lawyers  them- 
selves. Several  causes  were  carried  through  while  I  was 
there,  and  all  in  this  way, — all  French  ;  and  I  did  think  his 
Majesty's  judge  and  barristers  might  visit  the  States  and  get  a 
lesson  of  decorum  and  dignity  from  brother  Jonathan.  Then 
I  went  to  the  post-office,  but  no  letter.  Home  to  dinner  at  five 
o'clock,  to  tea  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Handyside  at  seven,  and 
aboard  the  boat  at  eight,  for  I  have  seen  all  the  outside  of 
Montreal  and  have  no  means  of  seeing  the  inside.  Ten,— I 
am  glad  to  be  off.  The  night  was  dark  and  rainy, — the  day 
is  the  same,  and  I  am  shut  up  in  the  cabin.  I  keep  my  eyes 
turning  to  shore,  but  see  nothing  interesting  yet  in  low  and 
level  banks.     We  expect  to  reach  Quebec  at  five  o'clock. 

"Evening,  Quebec  —  Conceive  of  me  here,  dear  Mary,  on 
this  romantic  spot,  actually  in  a  garrisoned  town,  where  almost 
all  you  see  and  hear  has  to  do  with  war  and  military  affairs, 
and  common  conversation  is  just  like  what  you  read  in  books, — 
at  least  so  it  has  been  this  evening.    One  of  our  boarders  (we  are 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  250 

but  four  gentlemen  and  two  ladies)  is  a  colonel,  who  has  seen 
service,  and  is  still  connected  with  the  army.  1  have  already 
had  from  him  many  anecdotes  of  the  late  war,  in  which  he 
acted  a  part.  The  house  is  close  by  the  barracks  and  parade- 
ground,  where  I  hear  music  and  other  martial  sounds  con- 
stantly. We  arrived  at  half  past  five  in  the  midst  of  the  rain, 
which  compelled  me  to  buy  an  umbrella  as  soon  as  we  left  the 
boat,  and  has  prevented  my  wralking  round  the  town  at  all. 
The  arrival  is  quite  imposing.  You  see  the  hill  on  which  the 
city  stands,  when  approaching  it  two  miles  distant.  The 
river-banks  for  that  distance  are  very  high  and  steep,  very  like 
the  banks  at  Trenton  Falls.  When  within  a  mile,  you 
see  a  cluster  of  houses  on  the  shore  under  the  bank,  and  great 
quantities  of  lumber.  This  is  Wolfe's  Cove,  where  he  landed 
and  climbed  the  precipitous  banks  to  the  Plains  of  Abraham, 
directly  above.  Passing  this,  you  come  upon  the  Cape,  (which 
is  a  continuation  of  those  high  banks,)  at  the  spot  where  the 
river  St.  Charles  joins  the  St.  Lawrence.  On  this  point  is  the 
town.  You  see  a  town  below  the  bank  on  the  very  water's 
edge,  but  nothing  above  till  you  turn  the  corner  ; — then  comes 
in  sight  the  real  city,  hanging  fearfully  on  the  very  verge  of 
the  precipice  as  if  it  would  fall  off.  You  land  amidst  build- 
ings, and  ascend  by  a  narrow,  crooked,  and  steep  street,  most 
compactly  built,  till  you  enter  the  huge  gate  near  the  top  of 
the  hill.  Our  house  is  near  this,  and  further  I  have  not  seen. 
I  find,  however,  that  it  is  a  much  more  crowded  place  than  I 
had  supposed,  not  less  so  than  Boston,  with  nearly  half  as 
many  inhabitants,  and  about  a  thousand  fewer  than  Montreal. 
The  latter  is  much  more  loosely  built.  There  is  great  inter- 
course between  the  two  places,  ten  steamboats  running  there 
daily,  or  nearly  so,  and  the  fare  but  two  dollars, — one  hundred 
and  eighty  miles. 

"  Sunday  Night. — I  went  out  for  my  walk  before  breakfast 
for  an  hour, — a  bright    cool   morning, — and   took  the    com- 


256  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

pass  of  the  town.  I  passed  through  three  of  the  gates  and 
saw  the  thickness  of  the  walls,  in  one  place  fifty  feet.  I  have, 
however,  no  distinct  notion  of  the  thing,  and,  if  I  had,  would 
not  try  to  describe  it  on  paper.  Immediately  after  breakfast, 
I  again  went  forth,  and  in  the  Catholic  cathedral  heard  the  ser- 
mon to  the  troops  and  the  English,  by  a  young  man  ;  and  an 
uncommonly  fine  discourse,  on  the  obligation  to  make  our  lives 
consistent  with  our  profession, — an  elevated  piece  of  compo- 
sition, lucid,  forcible,  and  earnest.  Thence  I  went  to  the  Eng- 
lish cathedral,  and  heard  the  service  for  troops  there,  (for  that 
is  the  stated  place  to  which  they  are  marched  in  a  body,)  very 
poor  and  dull.  Then  went  to  the  Romish  cathedral,  and 
heard  the  conclusion  of  a  very  animated  French  sermon,  and 
witnessed  high  mass, — three  bishops,  and  thirty  or  more 
other  clergy,  and  the  big  building  jammed  with  people. 
Thence  to  the  regular  service  of  the  English  cathedral,  where 
I  heard  the  bishop  of  Nova  Scotia  give  an  exceeding  good 
preachment,— his  manner  simple  and  solemn,  and,  bating  a 
bit,  his  discourse  good.  In  the  afternoon  I  heard  a  Scotch 
Presbyterian  scream  out  a  poor  sermon  to  a  thin  audience. 
Rather  a  dissipated  day,  you  will  say  ;  but  I  have  gratified  a 
good  deal  of  not  irrational  curiosity,  and  can  truly  say,  that  I 
entered  into  the  spirit  of  much  of  the  liturgy,  and  did  not  lose 
my  time.  But  how  glad  I  shall  be  of  another  quiet  Sunday, 
in  my  own  home  and  amongst  my  own  people.  The  market 
was  open  and  thronged  till  nine  o'clock  or  later  this  morning  ; 
and,  at  four  this  afternoon,  the  troops  were  paraded  and  re- 
viewed, and  half  the  city  was  out  to  see  them.  This  is  done 
every  Sunday.  The  new  governor  I  saw  at  church,  and 
mean  to  attend,  if  possible,  his  first  levee,  held  to-morrow. 

"  Monday  Night.  —  I  sallied  out  to  the  drill  of  the  troops 
before  breakfast,  and  after  breakfast  passed  out  of  the  princi- 
pal gate  of  the  city,  that  of  St.  Louis,  on  an  excursion  to  the 
Plains  of  Abraham,  where  Wolfe's  battle  was  fought,  about  a 
mile  from  the  city,  now  a  race-course.     I  saw  the  spot  where 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  257 

he  fell,  and  passed  on  to  the  bank,  up  which  he  led  his  troops  ; 
clambered  down  the  steep  ;  and,  coming  to  the  water's  edge, 
entered  the  lower  city  over  the  spot  at  which  Montgomery  fell. 
It  seems  to  me  that  his  was  a  most  insane  expedition.  I  do 
not  see  how  it  is  possible  for  any  troops  to  force  a  way  into 
Quebec.  I  then  took  the  ferry  across  the  river  to  Point  Levi, 
which  affords  the  finest  view  of  the  city  ;  and,  after  staying 
half  an  hour  returned,  traversed  the  whole  length  of  the  lower 
town,  and  got  home  at  half  past  two.  Took  a  nap  and  went 
out  again  over  some  portions  of  the  fortifications  which  I  had 
not  seen  ;  returned  to  dinner  at  five  ;  at  seven  attended  for  an 
hour  the  meeting  of  the  Wesleyan  Missionary  Society  ;  took 
tea  at  half  past  eight,  and  am  now  in  my  room  just  fit  to 
think  of  home  and  go  to  sleep,  wThile  the  music  from  the  bar- 
racks is  just  far  enough  off  to  soothe  me.  To-morrow  I  hope 
to  visit  the  Falls  of  Montmorenci,  the  citadel,  and  the  armory, 
and  in  the  evening  start  for  Montreal.  I  must  tell  you  what 
affected  me  a  great  deal  this  evening.  I  went  to  the  Wes- 
leyan chapel  at  six,  thinking  it  the  time  of  meeting.  The 
candles  were  lighted,  the  house  was  empty,  and  I  saw  in  an 
obscure  corner  a  soldier  with  his  cap  off,  kneeling  down  at  his 
devotions.  I  could  not  help  contrasting  it  with  the  probable 
employment  of  a  great  majority  of  the  garrison,  who  are  so 
peculiarly  exposed  to  temptation  and  dissipation. 

"  Wednesday  Afternoon.  —  On  board  steamboat  John  Mol~ 
son ;  none  of  them  to  be  compared  to  ours  ;  less  neat  and 
orderly.  Yesterday's  visit  to  the  Falls  was  a  failure  ;  I  mis- 
sed my  road  and  came  away  without  seeing  them.  However, 
I  had  a  pleasant  ride; — on  the  whole  a  very  pleasant  visit, 
though  I  have  seen  less  of  the  inside  than  I  might  have  done 
under  other  circumstances.  The  new  fortifications  of  Quebec, 
which  are  very  astonishing,  I  regret  not  being  allowed  to  visit, 
and  some  of  the  religious  houses  I  would  like  to  have  seen. 
But  I  shall  never  despair  of  coming  again.  Take  it  for  all 
in  all,  the  situation  and  vicinity  are  more  charming  than  any 
09^ 


258  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

spot  I  have  known.  As  to  an  army  taking  it,  it  seems  to  be 
impossible  ;  and,  as  to  a  blockade,  there  are  always  kept  on 
hand  two  years'  provision  for  twenty  thousand  men,  so  that 
the  place  cannot  be  starved.  But,  if  I  see  it  again,  you  shall 
be  with  me. 

"  Sandy  Hill,  Sunday,  Sept.  21. — Only 

consider  that  I  am  now  three  hundred  and  twenty-three  miles 
on  my  return,  and  so  much  nearer  home  than  on  last  Sunday. 
In  about  ten  days  I  shall  be  with  you,  unless  things  change  ; 
and,  in  reasoning  about  the  matter,  I  am  really  at  a  loss  to 
know  wThat  would  be  best.  I  feel  able  to  be  doing  something, 
and  I  know  there  is  something  to  be  done  in  the  parish  which 
I  can  do.     I  do  not  doubt  that  I  might  now  preach  half  the 

time  without  danger It  is  very  desirable  to 

be  near  enough  to  the  people  to  attend  to  their  affairs,  and 
show  them  some  sympathy,  and  seem  to  be  caring  for  them. 
I  really  see  no  cause  why  I  may  not  do  it  now  ;  and  I  will 
promise  to  preach  only  one  half  the  time  and  to  be  extremely 
prudent 

"  The  preaching  in  this  village, — a  pretty  large  and  hand- 
some one, — is  by  Methodists  and  Presbyterians  alternately. 
To-day  was  the  Methodists',  and  I  have  been  quite  gratified 
by  two  good  sermons,  in  a  very  plain,  energetic,  affectionate 
manner ;  in  the  morning,  on  the  value  of  the  soul  and  the 
danger  of  neglecting  it ;  in  the  afternoon,  on  the  character 
and  security  of  the  disciples  of  Christ.  It  was  a  pleasant 
day,  even  to  the  nasal  psalmody  which  vented  itself  in  the 
ancient  fuguing  tunes  of  my  boyhood.  We  have  a  talkative, 
inquisitive  woman  from  Boston  here,  who  thrust  herself  on 
me  to  wait  upon  her  to  church.  She  inquired  of  a  boarder 
on  her  return,  why  he  did  not  go.  He  replied,  that  he  did 
not  like  to  hear  the  Deity  abused,  and  he  heard  him  worse 
abused  in  the  pulpit  than  by  any  mob  on  the  Common ;  — they 
attributed  to  Him  their  malice,  revenge,  selfishness,  and  many 
gross  vices.     This  led  to  further  conversation  :    and  it  soon 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  259 

appeared,  that,  though  he  had  heard  enough  to  justify  him  in 
this,  yet  he  knew  nothing  as  he  should  do,  for  he  quoted  some 
of  the  most  offensive  sayings  of  Calvinism  as  parts  of  the 
Bible.  When  I  assured  him  they  were  not,  he  said  he 
thought  they  were,  and  left  the  room.  Yet  he  was  setting  up 
for  a  champion  of  the  Divine  Character  !  I  had  quite  a  pleas- 
ant talk  with  a  Methodist  and  his  wife,  on  board  the  boat,  who, 
rinding  I  was  a  Unitarian,  from  Boston,  were  very  anxious  to 
learn  the  nature  and  quality  of  my  faith.  He  appeared  very 
kindly  disposed,  listened  candidly,  and,  when  I  offered  him 
some  tracts,  promised  to  read  them  carefully,  which  I  doubt 
not  he  will  do.  This  woman,  whom  I  have  just  mentioned 
as  boarding  here,  has  done  her  prettiest  to  find  out  who  I  am. 
She  asked  where  I  did  business,  and  at  last,  when  she  could 
hold  out  no  longer,  asked  plainly  my  name.  However,  I  chose 
to  evade  her ;  but  she  is  sure  she  has  seen  me  somewhere. 
She  is  quite  an  original,  and  amuses  me  much.  She  has  just 
offered  to  wait  on  me  to  the  Falls,  and  it  will  require  some 
generalship  to  get  rid  of  her.  After  the  bustle  and  hurry  of 
the  last  ten  days,  I  greatly  enjoy  this  quiet  retirement.  I  hope 
you  enjoy  the  day  too.     Peace  be  with  you. 

"  Stillwater ',  N.  Y.,  Sept.  22.  Monday  Evening. — Mary 
tells  me  that  you  have  sent  to  me  at  Montreal ;  which  letter, 
as  I  shall  not  receive  it,  there  is  more  need  that  I  acknowl- 
edge. You  will  have  learned,  that  I  hurried  on  my  way 
through  Canada,  and  am  hastening  home,  having  gained 
daily,  I  think,  in  strength,  and  being  not  far  from  my  usual 
state  of  health,  excepting  a  considerable  and  not  diminishing 
expectoration,  and  an  aptness  for  hoarseness, — my  voice,  I 
think,  not  clear  at  any  time.  I  have  tried  my  strength  in 
running  over  the  Saratoga  battle-ground,— with  a  good  deal 
of  interest,  but  not  entire  satisfaction.  The  truth  is,  that  the 
ground  is  so  extensive  that  it  would  require  several  long  visits 
to  acquaint  one's  self  with  the  several  localities,  and  fairly 
understand  the  matter.     And,  besides,  the  old  guide,  a  man  of 


260  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

eighty-four,  who  was  in  the  battle,  states  things  very  confus- 
edly, and  does  little  to  help  you  make  out  the  very  distinct 
account  of  Wilkinson  ;  sometimes  he  contradicts  it.  But  even 
the  general  idea  I  have  brought  away,  of  the  form  of  the  ground 
and  of  the  position  of  the  armies,  is  something.  We  (namely, 
I,  Mr.  Cornelius,  lately  of  Salem,  and  Dr.  Parker,  of  the  Brit- 
ish army,  who  happened  on  the  ground)  all  went  first  to  the 
British  lines,  which,  beginning  at  the  River  Hudson,  may  be 
traced  through  the  meadows  up  the  hill,  and  two  miles  into 
the  interior.  The  American  lines  were  just  opposite,  and  may 
also  be  traced  for  the  same  distance.  These  we  did  not  visit, 
as  the  battle  occurred  on  the  British  line.  "We  then  went  to 
the  head-quarters  of  Burgoyne,  a  house  of  one  story  and  only 
two  rooms.  There  we  saw  where  General  Frazer  died,  the 
very  spot ;  and  all  the  circumstances  of  that  pathetic  scene, 
as  described  by  Madame  Riedesel,  were  realized  before  us  at 
once.  This  was  near  the  edge  of  the  river,  two  miles  from 
the  scene  of  conflict,  (which  was  at  the  extreme  British  right,) 
but  exposed  to  the  fire  of  the  American  party,  stationed  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river.  In  front  of  the  house  was  a  steep  hill, 
and  on  the  top  of  it  a  redoubt,  in  which  Frazer  requested  to 
be  buried,  and  where  he  was  buried  at  about  dark,  during  the 
heat  of  the  engagement,  and  where  the  funeral  procession  was 
fired  upon,  as  it  went  up  the  hill,  and  while  the  service  was 
reading  at  the  grave.  The  place  is  easily  distinguished,  and  I 
went  to  it.  A  most  beautiful  prospect  presents  itself ;  the  river, 
the  fertile  meadows,  the  hill  beyond,  and  the  canal  winding  at 
your  feet, — all  these,  joined  to  associations  of  the  place,  made 
it  one  of  the  most  interesting  spots  I  have  ever  stood  upon. 
Indeed,  I  scarcely  know  any  scene  so  touching,  so  pathetically 
and  poetically  striking,  as  that  of  Frazer's  funeral, — and  a 
rare  subject  for  either  the  painter  or  the  poet.  And  yet  an 
artist  must  fall  short  of  the  effect  produced  by  the  simple,  art- 
less narrative  of  Madame  Riedesel.  I  have  been  reminded 
to-day  of  what  T  have  often   thought,  how  excellent  it  would 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  261 

have  been,  if  Byron  had  travelled  over  these  places  and  given 
us  a  Canto  of  Childe  Harold.  The  whole  route  of  the  fash- 
ionable tour  is  full  of  poetical  subjects.  What  would  he  not 
do  with  Niagara,  Trenton,  Quebec,  the  Plains  of  Abraham, 
West  Point,  Saratoga  ?  and  the  funeral  of  Frazer  would  have 
given  birth  to  one  of  the  most  beautiful  productions  of  his 
pen, — a  subject  just  suited  to  him.  Anybody,  who  can  write 
poetry,  cannot  do  better. 

"  Waterford,  N.  Y.,  Tuesday  Evening,  Sept.  23.— My 
■Monday's  ride  was  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  and  cheek  by 
jowl  with  the  Champlain  Canal,  but  there  is  nothing  interest- 
ing or  beautiful  in  the  scenery.  Some  places  of  antiquarian 
interest  I  passed,  as  Fort  Edward,  and  the  tree  beneath  which 
Miss  McCrea  was  murdered.  My  object  was  to  reach  the 
Saratoga  battle-ground,  twenty-five  miles,  in  time  to  traverse 
it ;  which,  as  you  have  learned  by  my  letter  to  John,  I  effect- 
ed ;  and  you  may  judge  a  little  of  my  strength  by  my  being 
able  to  walk  and  ride,  mostly  walk,  over  rough  ground  for 
four  hours  after  such  a  ride,  and  then  spend  the  evening  till 
after  nine  in  writing.  It  is  very  singular,  that  I  should  have 
made  this  visit  with  Cornelius,  and  that  we  should  not  have 
detected  each  other  till  just  before  we  parted.  He  tells  me, 
that  I  bear  a  striking  resemblance  to  Parsons,  the  missionary. 
Truly  mine  must  be  a  most  accommodating  face.  Last  week 
I  was  taken  for  Hoffman,  the  Baltimore  lawyer.  I  came  near 
being  hurt  during  this  excursion.  My  horse,  who  sometimes 
stumbles,  came  upon  his  knees,  while  going  rapidly  ;  but, 
thanks  to  my  excellent  horsemanship,  in  which  I  seem  to 
outdo  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  I  kept  my  seat  and  remained 
unhurt. 

"  This  morning  (23d)  I  went  round,  about  eight  miles,  in 
order  to  see  the  great  aqueduct  by  which  the  canal  passes  over 
the  Mohawk,  well  worth  seeing,  and  the  Cohoes  Falls,  which 
are  very  beautiful ;  distinguished  from  all  other  Falls  in  this, 
that  the  water  touches  the  rock  during  all  its  descent,  and  is 


262  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR. 

a  brilliant,  broken  cataract  of  white  foam,  not  rushing  nor 
dashing,  but  quietly  and  majestically  rolling  down  the  steep. 
I  believe  the  height  is  about  eighty  feet.  There  is  very  little 
water  now,  and  there  is  a  beauty  quite  unique  in  the  thing. 

"  Friday  Afternoon,  New  York. — Never  take  a  man's  word 
for  it  that  he  keeps  a  first-rate  house,  etc.  I  went  to  Water- 
ford,  Tuesday,  in  such  a  simplicity  of  faith,  and  very  much 
because  the  fellow  advertised  a  Reading-room,  with  papers 
from  every  part  of  the  country,  and  I  longed  to  see  some  from 
Boston.  But,  alas  !  his  Reading-room  was  shut ;  the  house 
big,  full  of  pretension  and  discomfort ;  and  I  was  put  to  bed 
with  two  companions,  both  of  whom  were  so  troublesome, 
that  I  killed  them  before  morning.  On  Wednesday,  I  went 
to  Albany,  through  Lansingburgh  and  Troy,  and  yesterday  the 
boat  put  me  in  here. 

"  New  York,  Sunday,  September  27 '. —  ....  I  shall 
be  at  home  Tuesday  forenoon,  and  could  jump  for  gladness  at 
the  very  thought.  It  is  quite  time  that  I  were  there,  if  I  may 
judge  by  my  feelings  ;  and  I  long  to  see  for  myself  how  you 
do,  and  just  what  progress  you  have  made,  and  to  show  my 
acquisitions  to  you.  I  think  you  will  be  satisfied  with  them, 
and  I  do  most  earnestly  hope  and  pray  that  I  may  not  be  for- 
bidden to  preach  immediately.  If  I  am,  I  cannot  stay  in  Bos- 
ton. I  cannot  live  there,  appearing  well,  as  I  certainly  do, 
and  yet  do  nothing.  I  must  either  go  another  journey  or  take 
a  dismission 

"  Dr.  Flagg  was  at  church  this  morning,  and  brought  me 
later  news  from  you  than  I  have  heard.  He  says  I  never 
looked  better.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  how  I  long  to  be  with 
you.  Home,  home,  home  !  a  blessed  place  !  but  there  are  no 
words  to  tell  how  precious.  Heaven  keep  you  well,  and  give 
us  a  happy  meeting. 

"Tuesday,    September   30. — The    storm 

detained  me  yesterday  (at  New  York)  and  I  have  had  thus, 
by  compulsion,  a   charming   long  visit,  and  enjoyed   it   very 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  263 

highly.     To-day  has  been  perfect,  and  I  have  ridden  twenty- 
eight  miles,  to  Sawpitts,  a  poor  little  village." 

"October  1. — Twenty-eight  miles  to-day,  to  Fairfield,  rather 
a  large  and  pleasant  village,  which  I  reached,  by  my  good 
star,  just  at  five  o'clock,  and  at  the  moment  when  a  violent 
storm  began.  It  threatens  a  long  rain,  whereat  I  shall  be 
sadly  impatient;  and  nothing  else,  I  think,  can  prevent  my 
being  home  next  Wednesday.  I  found  yesterday,  at  New 
Eochelle,  in  a  charming  house  where  I  dined,  and  where  the 
daughter's  piano  and  album  gave  token  of  education,  and  the 
landlady's  manners  were  lady-like  and  polite,  the  '  Life  of 
John  Urquhar'  and  his  writings.  I  ran  over  them  with  great 
interest.  He  died  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  having  already 
devoted  himself  to  the  missionary  cause.  A  most  extraordi- 
nary mind,  and  a  most  excellent  character.  He  seems  to 
have  possessed  the  maturity  of  intellect  and  of  goodness  which 
belong  to  fifty  years.  To-day  I  met,  at  Norwalk,  the  '  Me- 
moirs and  Writings  of  Carlos  Wilcox,'  a  Connecticut  minister 
of  just  my  age,  who  died  a  year  ago  ;  a  poet,  who  lived  for 
his  imagination,  and  struggled  with  ill  health  and  worse  spirits 
for  years.  Perhaps  you  have  seen  his  '  Age  of  Benevolence' 
—  rather  a  mediocre  poem,  but  the  man's  whole  soul  was 
given  to  it,  and  his  character  and  letters  are  very  interest- 
ing." 

"  October  2, 

[the  birth-day  of  his  wife.] 
11  *  The  dawn  is  overcast,  the  morning  lowers, 
And  heavily  in  clouds  brings  on  the  day  ;' 
The  roads  are  miry  with  continued  showers, 

And  rain  and  mud  deter  me  from  my  way ; 
And  yet  to  me  it  all  looks  fair  and  bright, 
For  on  this  day  my  Mary  saw  the  light. 

"  Many  returns  to  you  of  this  sweet  day, 

And  each  return  more  happy  than  the  last ; 


264  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

Peace  to  your  heart,  as  thoughtful  you  survey 
The  various  fortunes  of  the  chequered  past ; 
And  bright  and  glorious  be  the  visions  given, 
That  clothe  your  coming  years  in  hues  of  heaven." 


END   OF    VOLUME    I. 


